Blood Ties
by Angel More
Summary: AU. What if Anne of Cleves, the King's Beloved Sister and once his unwanted wife, gave birth to the son he had always desired... but from our favourite Secretary? Full Summary inside. Thomas Cromwell/Anne of Cleves. UPDATE: RATED M!
1. Great News

Summary: When King Henry VIII got rid of Anne of Cleves, he didn't thought someone would ever bed such an unattractive woman, let alone have children with her, until Thomas Cromwell proved him wrong. How would the King react if Anne of Cleves gave Cromwell the heir His Majesty desired so much?

Chapter I

I dismissed the midwife with a smile and a generous sum of money. Only then I called my ladies back to the room. They did not need to ask what the woman had just said to me: my bright smile said it all. I sat in a cushioned armchair and waited for my husband to arrive. I didn't bother to hide my excitement: God knows I haven't had any reasons to smile until last year.

My name is Anne of Cleves and, until a year ago, I was the Queen of England and the fourth wife of His Majesty the King Henry VIII. I said "was" because our marriage was never consummated. He didn't like me. I was a mare in his eyes, and he wanted to get rid of me at any cost. I do not deny I was afraid he would send me to the scaffold like he did with his second wife, Lady Anne Boleyn. But I wasn't any commoner as she once had been before her sudden rise to the power and epic downfall. I was the sister of the Duke of Cleves, a small but important duchy in terms of geopolitics. The King had married me in order to strengthen the ties between England and the Protestant League. I was thrilled to leave my hometown, to escape my brother's strict rules. If I only I knew I was trading a tyrant for another. Soon after our marriage, His Majesty decided to take a mistress among my ladies-in-waiting, choosing one of the deceased Queen Anne's cousins, Katherine Howard. Truth to be told, she was pretty, but she did not take after Anne Boleyn's famous intelligence and wit. She was, actually, one of the silliest girls I have ever met. So, I was casted aside and given the title of "the King's Beloved Sister", along with estates of my own. I agreed to marry Thomas Cromwell, the man who had first arranged my marriage with the King. His Majesty was very displeased with him: and it seemed unfair to me that Cromwell would end up in the scaffold because of my inability to satisfy my husband. Therefore, I married him in order to save his life.

I didn't expect Thomas to be a good husband. He seemed so cold and ruthless at first, but soon I discovered a softer and somehow kind man hidden beneath the surface. He had a son from his deceased first wife, Gregory, almost the same age as I am, of whom I have grown very fond. Thomas was able to secure his place as Lord of the Privy Seal and I was granted permission to stay in England. I couldn't bear the thought of going back home.

And now I was expecting a child from Thomas Cromwell.

I still remember vividly our first night together. I was really frightened. The few attempts the king had made to claim my maidenhood were disgusting. I still remember clearly his sticky tongue and his putrid smell due to his leg ulcer. But Thomas was quite the opposite: his smell was always fresh and clean, his touch quite gentle. I've learned to enjoy our moments of intimacy and regard them as a natural thing between a husband and a wife, not just some marital duty. The King had complained loudly about my ugliness, but Thomas never said a disrespectful word about my body. In fact, he seemed to admire it.

So here I was, happier than ever, waiting for him to arrive. Half an hour passed until I saw his horse walking down the hill which surrounded our estate. He smiled at me while one servant took the animal to the stable. A moment later I heard the familiar sound of his boots climbing the stairs. I quickly dismissed my ladies, who curtseyed him at the doorway. He took my hands and kissed them gently. Then he noticed my bright smile.

- What is it, Anne? You seem very happy today.

- Indeed I am, my lord. I have some great news to give you. I'm sure you will be pleased to hear them.

He said nothing, wanting me to continue. I touched his jaw and then locked my fingers in his black curls, until I finally whispered:

- Thomas, I am with child.

I saw his green eyes grow wide in surprise and then his smile grew even wider. Next thing I knew, he was twirling me around the room, while the walls echoed my laughter.


	2. Envy

**Thanks to all your reviews, hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**

Chapter II

_It had to be a joke_, King Henry thought. Why would God want him to put him through such an irony?

When he called out for Cromwell that very morning, he could barely notice the change in his Master Secretary. Cromwell was a master in terms of concealing his true feelings. But Henry knew him too well. There was a certain aura of happiness around him, a sense of peaceful joy he had not seen in such a long time. As their meeting was over, Henry tried to figure out what was on his Secretary's mind.

- So… putting our business aside… how is Lady Anne, Master Cromwell? – the King asked in the most casual tone he could find.

That was it. It had to be something about her. Cromwell's eyes lit up almost immediately.

- She is very well, Majesty. Actually, it is my dearest pleasure to inform you that Lady Anne is expecting a child.

He could not believe it at first. He almost started to see black spots in his eyes.

- Are you sure? – He knew it was stupid, but he was desperately praying it would be a joke. But Cromwell wasn't exactly known for his humor. It had to be true.

- Yes, Your Majesty. She has seen a midwife who confirmed it.

_This is a nightmare,_ Henry thought. _Someone pinch me, please. It's not funny. AT ALL._

He needed to be alone in order to collect himself, so he managed to dismiss Cromwell, not before expressing his most heartfelt congratulations to the couple and also his kindest regards to Lady Anne. He even allowed Mary to visit her, if she so wished. Then, when Cromwell was finally out of his sight, Henry turned on his boots and started walking to his chambers without noticing the bows and whispers around him and almost shoving his friends Charles Brandon and Anthony Knivert out of the way when they tried to approach him. He slammed the door behind him and dismissed all the servants from his quarters. Only then he allowed himself to let out his anger by punching his mattress with all his might.

How could this happen? She was ugly as a mare! The thought of Cromwell bedding her while she moaned in pleasure disgusted him to no end. Now that he thought about it, Henry mused, they were the perfect couple: she was a Flanders mare and he was the son of a filthy, drunk blacksmith. _A match made in heaven, _Henry mocked coolly. Even if she was pregnant, even if the child was a boy, he wouldn't exactly be proud of his heritage. He would probably be ashamed of it. Cromwell was a good politician, Henry was forced to agree on that, but of very low birth. How could a man like Wolsey had taken him under his wing? But Cardinal Wolsey was a traitor, and the son of a butcher, so go figure.

However, there was a strange feeling building up inside him concerning Anne's pregnancy. _Envy._ He had made a mistake, and Henry knew it too well. If he hadn't got rid of her, Anne of Cleves would be carrying _his _child instead of Cromwell's. The country would hopefully have another heir to strengthen the Tudor dynasty, besides Edward, his precious little boy. And that thought troubled him. Right, Anne might be ugly but she was undoubtedly fertile: she was married to Cromwell for less than a year and already had a child growing inside her. On the other hand, his new wife, his English rose, Katherine Howard, had done nothing to fulfill her duty as the Queen of England. Well, nothing apart from spending large sums of money in her futilities.

She had to give him a heir. She had to give him a son, Henry thought. He couldn't bear the thought of what people would say if Anne of Cleves gave birth to a son by Secretary Cromwell. The whole Court would laugh at him behind his back. The whole world would laugh at the foolish King who had an opportunity to secure his dynasty and let it slip through his fingers. No, that could never happen. Katherine HAD to give him a son. Otherwise, heads would roll. Literally. So, unless Katherine wanted to follow her damned cousin footsteps to the scaffold, she would better do her job.

With a wicked smile, Henry sent her a message to meet him that night.


	3. Bad Omen

Thanks for your reviews, I'm glad you are liking this story so far.

Chapter III

- I won't do it! It's ridiculous! – whined Katherine, turning her back to her cousin and lady-in-waiting, Jane Boleyn. Her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, had sent his private doctor to check on her female parts. A year had passed, and no signs of pregnancy. Her uncle was getting worried about her health and welfare – or so he said – but even Katherine wasn't that stupid to believe him. He was starting to get impatient. He wanted to reap the benefits of being the uncle of the future Prince of England as soon as possible.

- It's for your own sake – said Jane Boleyn, for the millionth time. – You better do as His Grace commands.

- No! I'm the Queen of England. He can't command me anymore. I'm way above him right now! – Katherine kept whining like a child.

Jane was starting to lose her patience.

- Kitty – she said in a colder and less deferential tone, for once not giving a damn about the protocol. – Can't you just do what you're told? It's for your own good. You know His Majesty's biggest desire is to have a male son. It would please him a great deal if he knew his beloved wife was healthy enough to bore him one soon.

Katherine bit her lip nervously. Jane was right. What could be wrong, anyway? She was fifteen, for God's sake, and she had never been sick in her life, not even once. Everything was fine. Still, she had to endure the humiliation of being wide open to a stranger, even if he was a doctor. Thankfully, Jane was there holding her hand and giving her a supportive smile. None of her old friends and now ladies in waiting were allowed to stay in the room.

When the examination was over, Katherine covered herself with the white linen sheets of her feathered bed and waited for the verdict, since the doctor was talking to her uncle outside the room. Fifteen minutes later, Thomas Howard appeared at the doorway, and Katherine hugged herself defensively. His look was so infuriated that she feared he would strangle her.

- Your useless whore – he said, gritting his teeth.

- What did the doctor say? – intervened Jane, trying to calm him down. Wrong idea. He seemed to get even more furious, if that was possibly.

- She can't bear the King any sons. Her womb is too small – he said coolly.

- It can't be! – Kitty and Jane exclaimed at the same time.

- It is true, your stupid, empty-brained whore! – Norfolk wanted to shout at her, Jane could tell, but he didn't dare to take the risk of being listened. – All this planning for nothing! We put you in the King's bed, we made you Queen of England… for what? You can't even bear a child inside your damn womb!

Katherine was about to cry but she still managed to retort in a weak voice:

- His Majesty loves me. I'm sure he won't mind. He already has a male heir, anyway.

Norfolk stifled an ironic giggle.

- He loves you? Seriously? Wake up, silly thing! He doesn't love you for who you are, Katherine. The only thing he wants is a heir, _besides_ Prince Edward. He's getting old and the thought of leaving only a male son behind frightens him. He was a second son, back in the day when Henry VII ruled the country. Then his older brother, Prince Arthur, died and his father followed him shortly after. If Queen Elizabeth of York hadn't bore him more than a male son, the Tudor dynasty would have ended briefly after its very start. Do you understand now, Katherine?

She nodded slowly.

- He doesn't love anyone, Katherine. Anyone but himself – Jane Boleyn whispered. - For years he proclaimed his unconditional love for his deceased brother's wife, The Princess Dowager of Wales, and he went to great lengths to marry her and make her Queen of England. The Queen miscarried many times, being the only child who survived her infancy Princess Mary. Then, after 20 years of marriage, he discarded her like an old rug for your cousin, Anne Boleyn. She promised him a son and he was allured by her wits and charm, marrying her against the will of the Holy Church and turning the country upside down in the meantime. But then Elizabeth was born, and although the King loved her, she was a great disappointment in his eyes. Anne couldn't give him a male son, and so she was executed like a treacherous witch. Only because she wasn't able to give him a son. Do you understand?

Kitty nodded again.

- What should I do? – she muttered. Now she was starting to be frightened.

- I don't know – said Norfolk. – Yet. Leave it to me and Jane, we'll discuss this matter with all the due urgency. For now, be of good cheer. Be as enchanting as a young Queen can be. I've heard His Majesty has called for you tonight. You will meet him and couple with him as if you were a goddess of fertility. Conceal your feelings, Katherine, whatever they may be. Trust your family, we'll come up with something.

Katherine nodded and straightened herself, watching him leave her quarters. Then she turned to Jane Boleyn.

- Do you promise you will fix this up?

Jane squeezed her hand. She wished she could promise her so. But in fact she couldn't. However, she managed to give Katherine a reassuring smile.

- We let a Queen fall before – she said firmly. – We won't make that happen again. I promise.


	4. Tired

_Before we start, thanks again for taking your time to read and review this story. And I'm sorry: I know that having a small womb is a weak excuse, but I need Kitty to be infertile. Maybe I'll take __**DoctorMadwoman**__'s advice and go along with the Tudor superstition that she used to put a pebble in her womb in order to not conceive a child (everyone knows she wasn't exactly a saint before being married to Henry), damaging her womb beyond fixing. But for now let's go back to our lovebirds, Anne and Thomas._

_On with the chapter!_

Chapter IV

Thomas let out a deep sigh when he finally saw the outlines of his manor shining in the darkness. _Home, sweet home_ he thought, after having entered the house, walking slowly in order to not wake up his wife and his child. _His child. _He had been a widow for thirteen years, ever since God had taken his Elizabeth away from him. Those had been dark years. She was the only one who could cheer him up, who could make him smile even after a long and tiring day of work. When she died, it seemed like all the world had turned into various shades of grey. All colors, all the merriment faded away. He had lived alone since then, not even taking mistresses in order to satisfy his male needs, and had turned into a cold, heart-stoned man, until Anne appeared in his life.

Anne. His sweet, caring, lovely Anne. How could a King turn away a woman like her? She would have been a great Queen, something like the Protestant version of Katherine of Aragon. She was smart, kind and dignified. She wasn't very educated, but had a sharp mind, always pragmatic. Her sweetness was like a halo: most of their subjects found themselves surrounded by it, and even now, when she was far from Court, when her rightful place has been usurped by that stupid child, Katherine Howard (_Anne Boleyn must have been rolling in her grave if she saw her light-headed cousin taking her place in the throne, _he thought with a smirk) many courtiers used to approach Cromwell, sending their best wishes to Lady Anne. The news of her pregnancy had run fast, and everyone congratulated her and wished a safe deliverance. No matter how undesirable the King had claimed her to be, the people of England were still very fond of the German duchess who once was their Queen.

_How could they not be?_ Thomas asked himself, standing at the doorway of his chambers. Anne was so deeply absorbed by her reading that she didn't notice him. Her dark blonde hair was falling like a golden waterfall on her shoulders, her lips slightly parted. She looked like an angel. As if she had finally noticed his gaze, she lifted her eyes from the book and smiled.

- Thomas – she called, putting her book aside and extending her hands to him. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

- Why are you doing awake at this ungodly hour? – he said, while undressing himself. – You should be sleeping, it's good for the baby.

- You know very well I can't sleep until you get home, Thomas – she said kindly. – Nor can our son – she said, caressing her still flat belly. If it wasn't for her intuition, who had led her to call for a midwife, no one could tell yet she was pregnant.

- How do you know it's a boy? – Cromwell said playfully, while covering himself with the sheets and snuggling against her, her dark blonde hair tickling his chest.

She seemed surprised.

- I thought you wanted a boy. Every man in this country seems to want a baby boy.

Thomas laughed.

- Anne, do I look like the King? I don't _need _a boy. I don't need a male heir to succeed me on the throne. If our child is a daughter, I will be equally delighted, as long as she is healthy.

She laughed along, seeming quite relieved.

- You don't look like the King. You're too thin – she whispered, making him laugh even harder.

- Watch your tongue, Lady Anne, or I will have you arrested for treason – he mocked.

- Well, I'm sure I would find a way of convince you of my innocence, Master Cromwell – she said, caressing his bare chest and "accidentally" grazing his nipples. His muscles tensed instantly and his heart pumped faster. – How is the King?

- Grumpy – he whispered back, rolling his eyes. – His leg is bothering him and giving him great pain.

- Poor him. Did you tell him that I am with child?

- I did. He sends his best wishes and even allowed Princess Mary to visit whenever she wishes. – Her eyes became wider.

- Are you serious?

- Yes. You can write her first thing in the morning. I'm sure she will be very pleased.

Anne smiled and kissed him on the lips. Her taste was sweet like spring honey.

- Thank you, Thomas.

- You're welcome, Anne. I will do anything to please you.

- I'd never expect to be so happy – she confessed, looking on his blue eyes.

- Me neither – he said, rolling on top of her and pulling her night gown off. Her pale body was totally exposed to him now.

- I thought you were tired, Master Cromwell. You seem like you had a rough day – she said in her funny (_and damn _sexy, according to Thomas' opinion) German accent. However, there was a playful twinkle in her eyes.

- I'm never too tired for you, Anne – he said passionately, kissing her lips and wrapping her legs on his waist. – I'm never too tired for you.


	5. Planning

Hello, here I am with a new chapter. I am so glad that this story is holding your interest. One thing that has been bothering me (yes, I am obsessed) is that maybe Cromwell is being portrayed in a much "kinder" way than usual. But I simply loved the way James Frain humanized him in the series, so I can't resist. And the fic is AU, so that's the perfect excuse :D

On with the chapter!

Chapter V

Meanwhile, while Anne and Thomas made love in their home manor and Katherine Howard pretended to be overwhelmed by carnal pleasure as His Majesty was on top of her, Thomas Howard had business to do. He sent a message for her niece, Jane Boleyn, to meet him after getting Kitty ready for the King. He also sent a message for Sir Francis Bryan. He needed someone to do the dirty job he had in mind. He stared at the fireplace, watching the red and orange flames. _That stupid whore, _he thought, infuriated with his niece, Katherine Howard. _A pebble? For God's sake! _He knew Katherine was not a saint before being married to Henry. At age fourteen, she had already had improper relations with Francis Dereham, a boy of no importance she had met in Lambeth. The Duke of Norfolk always thought it was lucky she didn't get pregnant. Now he knew why: Katherine had been putting a pebble in her womb in order to not conceive, and that had damaged her reproductive organs beyond fixing. Any other man could regard this as a major setback and a definitive end to his ambitions and greed, but Thomas Howard wasn't any man. He had a plan. It was the riskiest scheme he had ever come up with, but something had to be done.

His thoughts were disturbed by a gentle knock on the door. It was Jane Boleyn, followed by Sir Francis. She curtseyed deeply, while both men acknowledged each other with a nod. Norfolk gestured them to sit and poured three glasses of wine.

- So, Sir Francis… you must be wondering why you're here, must you not? – the Duke said, in a fake polite tone.

- Cut the crap, Norfolk – Bryan said in a scorned voice. – There's only one reason for me being here: you need to do some dark business, and need someone to do the dirty part of the job.

Jane Boleyn was outraged by the lack of deference showed by Francis. However, Thomas laughed wholeheartedly.

- Your wit never ceases to amaze me, Bryan. However, you are right. I don't like to beat around the bush, anyway. I need you to do me a major service. As you might have heard, Lady Anne of Cleves is pregnant by Secretary Cromwell.

- I've heard the gossip – said Bryan, chuckling. – Who would have thought His Majesty's mare was fertile?

- Do not speak like that of Lady Anne, for she stands way above you – retorted Lady Jane. She wasn't loyal to the German duchess, although she admired her deep inside. Anne of Cleves might be ugly, but she had dealt with rejection in a very dignified way.

- I've heard the King was not pleased – said Bryan, ignoring her comment. - No matter what he said to Cromwell, that was a big blow on Henry's ego. He had the opportunity to secure his dynasty and let it slip. Oh, wait, I've forgotten: now it's _your _opportunity – he mocked, looking at Norfolk and Jane.

- Actually, that's exactly the subject I want to discuss with you, Sir Bryan – said Norfolk, leaning forward.

- What is it? Good old Henry can't do the job anymore? Do you want me to bed your niece and put a bastard on the throne? – he laughed.

Thomas Howard had to control himself in order not to punch his nose. He could have had Bryan arrested for treason, but he chose to ignore the other man's bragging. Much more important things were at stake now.

- I do not doubt His Majesty's… abilities to conceive a son. However, I can't say the same for my niece.

- What do you mean? – Francis Bryan perked his ears.

- The Queen has a health issue which doesn't allow her to bear children – Thomas could see a hint of surprise in Bryan's face, but it was quickly replaced with a ironic smirk.

- So much work for nothing, eh? But I gather you already have a brilliant plan to get out of this mess, have you not, Norfolk?

- Of course I do. But I need you in order to succeed.

- What do you want?

- I want you to kidnap a baby. Katherine will present him as the male heir.

Lady Jane stifled a exclamation of surprise. Francis just looked him straight in the eye. He was a man of no scruples, but Norfolk surpassed him. But wasn't he the one who signed his own niece and Queen, Anne Boleyn, death warrant a few years back? Yes, Thomas Howard was a man who wouldn't mind selling his soul to the Devil if it brought him some profits. So he simply asked:

- How much?

- 100 crowns – Bryan whistled lowly. _Wow, the Howard family must be really desperate_. One hundred crowns were a fortune, according to Bryan's standards.

- But I don't want any man's son. I want Cromwell's son. If it's a boy, and I hope it is. If not, any male baby will do, as long as it is blonde with blue eyes.

Bryan almost giggled at the irony. Cromwell almost brought Norfolk along with his headless niece. Now Norfolk wanted to drag the Secretary down at any cost.

- I'm on it. – He simply said. One hundred crowns were bait he was willing to bite on.

- Great – said Norfolk, visibly relieved. – You can go now. We will talk again soon.

Francis nodded. Jane Boleyn didn't move. Norfolk probably wanted to discuss with her the best way of faking a pregnancy right in front of the King. Right in front of the whole world.


	6. Announcement

**Chapter 6**

**Thank you all for your reviews, I'm really glad this story is taking your interest.**

- Do you understand what you have to do, Katherine? – Jane Boleyn tried to sound cool and collected like their uncle Norfolk, but failed miserably. Her voice sounded sweeter than she had intended.

- Are you sure there's no other way? – Kitty desperately tried to escape. Jane didn't blame her for that.

- Unfortunately not, Your Majesty. You have to do as your uncle commands. A family meeting has already taken place regarding this matter.

- And what should I do? Get fat like an elephant and then starve to death after nine months to get back to my normal shape?

- Not exactly – _If only things were that simple, _sighed Lady Rochford. – First of all, you need to get rid of those silly girls you like to call your ladies-in-waiting.~

- Including Joan Bulmer?

- _Starting_ by Joan Bulmer.

- But she knows the whole story between me and Francis…

- Precisely. Her silence is to be generously rewarded.

- Fine, then – Katherine sighed in relief. – And who will replace them?

- Our family. Aunts, cousins… even the Duchess of Norfolk. It's important your family stays united and close to you. Only a Howard will attend you last thing at night, as only a Howard will help you attach a fake belly to your stomach, first thing in the morning.

Katherine stopped dead on her tracks.

- But… but… the King… won't he notice if the baby doesn't kick?

- That's why your fake belly is to be filled with cotton and pebbles – Katherine almost snorted at the irony. – When you move, the pebbles will move too. Their sound will be muffled by the cotton, but it will give the impression of a baby kicking.

- And my monthly courses?

- You will sleep with some kind of a… diaper wrapped between your legs, so your blood doesn't leak for the sheet.

_Good Lord, they have thought of everything_, sighed Katherine, trying to erase from her mind the image of her female courses being discussed in front of her uncle.

- I guess I have no choice, then – she finally muttered, sitting on the carpet in front of the fire. Jane couldn't help but pity her. Right, her behavior in Lambeth had been irresponsible and stupid, but Jane was sure Katherine wouldn't ever, even in her biggest dreams, dare to imagine she would one day become Queen of England, and therefore obliged to deliver male sons. She was a child yet, who liked to play, dance and wear pretty things.

Right now, the Queen looked so pale as if she was on her way to the scaffold. Jane sat down on the floor next to her, and much to her surprise, Katherine put off her tiara and laid her head on Jane's lap, who ran her fingers through the golden hair, trying to soothe her tears.

- Am I not supposed to crave some kind of food? – she asked innocently.

- Yes, of course. I would recommend sweet fruits. They are good to your health, and you need to look splendorous.

- Peaches?

- That will do perfectly.

- And the doctors? The midwives?

- Do not worry, your uncle will provide for that matter. It has been a month since the King last bedded you. You need to tell them soon, so our plan… - Jane didn't finish. In an instant Katherine had sent her away, to fetch the King.

Half an hour later, Henry Rex Tudor was announced in his wife's bedchambers. Lady Rochford was dismissed. Ten minutes later, one could hear the king's roared laughter and Katherine's happy giggles. Once the door opened, the people gathered outside the chamber were startled by the King's loud cry.

- Let all England know… Let all the world know, actually… that Her Majesty the Queen Katherine of England is expecting a child!


	7. Confessions and Tears

**CHAPTER 7**

**Hello everyone! Sorry for my long absence, my studies got in the way. **

**Just a few things before we start: I know this is COMPLETELY OOC, but don't fret: I am not a Cromwell fan, although I like the brilliant way James Frain portrayed him. However, I need to settle a truce between him and Mary to make this story work. I am a bit unsure about this chapter, though.**

**Second, I want to thank you all for your reviews. It's a true inspiration really.**

**And last but not the least: I would like to thank a million times SSLE for helping me with this chapter. If she wasn't for her, I would be still having writer's block.**

- What? - Mary stared at the woman in front of her in disbelief. - Katherine Howard is pregnant? - she utterly refused to call that little slut "the Queen" in private. - Are you sure, Anne?

- I am - nodded Anne of Cleves. - That's what my husband told me. He sent one of his clerks with a message - she gave Mary a piece of parchment. The Princess' eyes ran across the elegant calligraphy in a few seconds.

_Dear Anne:_

_I have some news. Whether they are good or bad, it's not up to me to judge. Kitty Howard is pregnant by the King. He intends to announce it to the world first thing in the morning. I am writing this to ask you something: could you please give the news to Lady Mary? I know she likes you a great deal, and it would be better if she heard them from you, since I suppose they will not give her much pleasure. _

_Yours truly_

_Thomas_

Mary was in shock. She made a mental note to thank Cromwell for once in his life being nice to her. At least she had Anne to comfort her. She let the German duchess caress her hair soothingly.

- That little minx did it again - said Mary between gritted teeth. - Just like the harlot Anne Boleyn, may the Devil have her soul. They both allured my father, they both casted a spell on him!

Anne of Cleves wanted to say that Mary probably wasn't totally right, that maybe her father had something to say in Lady Boleyn's trial - Thomas told her the King once put a dagger in his neck, shouting "I WANT HER DEAD!", but it wasn't the right time. So she bit her tongue and slowly caressed Mary's cheek, feeling her tears in her fingertips.

- Is there something I can do for you, Mary? - she asked gently. Mary shook her head and tried to wipe away her tears. It was the first time Anne had seen her cry. She was the daughter of Katherine of Aragon, the best Queen England had ever had. She wasn't weak. Underneath her fragile complexion was the soul of a warrior.

- Thanks, but there isn't anything you can do, Anne. Except leave me alone. I need to collect my thoughts on all this.

- Sure, my dear - Anne nodded sweetly. - I'll be in my room, if you need me. Have a good night and don't stay up till late, ok?

Mary managed to smile. Anne was always so kind, and it warmed her heart to see that, in spite of their short difference in age - Anne was only one year older than Mary - the German duchess cared about her as a mother should. She would be a great mother to her future children.

When her former stepmother was out of sight, Mary sat on the nearest chair and closed her eyes, letting her thoughts wander. Those were certainly bad news. If that whore bore his father a second son, a Duke of York, her chances of remain in her father's good graces would be lower. He wasn't very pleased with her, to say the truth. Mary couldn't hide her bitterness towards Katherine, who took advantage to whine on the King's ear about his daughter's behavior towards the Queen - Mary rolled her eyes inwardly at this thought - causing her to fall a little from Henry's favor. If Kitty gave birth to a son, Mary's situation would be even worse. All the honours were certainly to be bestowed on the newborn Duke, and she would find herself once again in the position of an unwanted maid, a mere daughter, a pawn in his father's political game. Besides - and that was the most painful thought - her father's affections would go exclusively for his two sons, leaving her craving for his love but suffering in silence. As she had always done.

Mary opened her eyes to find a dark male figure knelt by the fireplace, feeding the flames with wood. Mary felt a little uncomfortable: for how long had he been there, disturbing her privacy? But then she chided herself, reminding she was a guest in his house, so she should behave appropriately.

- Lord Cromwell - she said in a neutral tone. He was a bit startled by her voice, maybe he though she was asleep. He turned on his heels to bow his head to her.

- Lady Mary, I am sorry to wake you.

- I wasn't asleep. I was just... thinking. Oh, and... I wanted to thank you... for your concern. I read the letter you sent to Anne - Mary would never thought she would ever thank Cromwell for once in her lifetime, but he had indeed been quite thoughtful.

Cromwell shook his head.

- No need to, my Lady. I just thought you would react better if she was the one who told you the news.

- How is my father? Is his leg bothering him again?

- He was in good spirits, Lady Mary, and as cheerful as a man in his health condition could be - Cromwell said in the most neutral tone he could find. He could have told her that the King was rejoicing with the news of the Howard girl's pregnancy - and he was, indeed - but it was of no use.

- I am glad to hear it. I am surprised he hasn't announced Her Majesty's - those words felt like bitter milk in her mouth, but she kept talking - condition yet. They must be thrilled.

Cromwell bit his inner cheek, but he managed to utter.

- They will, first thing in the morning. England will wake up to the sound of fireworks and canon balls.

- Tell my father I will pray everyday for a healthy prince, and that I wish the Queen a happy and safe pregnancy - Mary forced herself to smile.

- I believe... - Cromwell hesitated, knowing how much his next words would not be kind to her - I believe you will have the chance of expressing your best wishes to them personally, Lady Mary. Your father is going to summon you back at Court sooner than expected. He wants you to congratulate the Queen on her condition.

Mary couldn't hide a sigh of displease. It was a humilliation. She tried to compose herself, but Cromwell noticed nevertheless.

- I would advise you to be kind to her. I know you don't like her, Lady Mary, but you would better conceal your feelings for your own sake.

- Since when do you worry yourself about my welfare, Lord Cromwell? - Mary blurted bitterly.

He was taken aback by her cold tone.

- I beg your pardon, milady?

Mary turned to him, slightly infuriated. She was tired of all this. Tired of being styled as Lady Mary instead of Princess of Wales. Tired of being labelled a bastard when she was her father's true and lawful daughter. Tired of watching silly whores after silly whores usurping the throne and her father's attention. Tired of watching everyone around her be cheerful and happy, while she dwelled on sad memories. Tired of nursing her siblings and godchildren instead of nursing her own children. She was just tired of being Mary Tudor: the girl no one wanted, the lady doomed to be hurt and forgotten.

- You were the one who presented Arcebishop Cranmer, the heretic who married my father and that harlot, to the King! You befriended Anne Boleyn and made her fall like a house of cards when she became dangerous to your own ambitions. If you weren't an heretic, none of this would have happened! My parents would have been together, I would have been his heir! If you and Anne Boleyn didn't put those dangerous idea of being the head of church in my father's mind, none of this would ever happen! This whore would never be pregnant and I wouldn't have lost my father's attention! I would still be the pearl of his world - she sobbed, collapsing in the armchair again.

Cromwell didn't know how to retort. If he could, he would have screamed at her that it wasn't his fault that her father was becoming a monster. He would have told her that his father physically threatened him to get rid of Anne Boleyn at any cost. Instead, he sat on one of the arms of the chair and hugged her tightly. He didn't know why he dared to do that. Seeing her cry saddened him: no one could deny that girl had had enough to cry upon: her father's annulment, her mother's demise and death, Queen Jane's death.. and now... Katherine Howard's pregnancy.

Mary couldn't believe she was being hugged by an heretical, no matter how warm and cozy his arms were. No matter how long had it been since she had been hugged and comforted by anyone. She tried to push him away, but he didn't let go. Instead, he tied her arms with one hand behind her back.

- Please, listen to me, my Lady! LISTEN TO ME! Who do you think I am? A man of no feelings? I am not Satan, Lady Mary. I am not a noblemen, either.

- So who are you? - she said, defiantly even through her tears.

- I am your father's servant. I am the one who sacrificed everything in favour of his King: I sacrificed my deceased wife, my dead children. I am the first to wake up in the morning and the last to go to sleep at night. I am the one who never shows weakness, no matter how hard life hits me. I am the man who sent his best friend to death only because your father commanded me! I am the man who asked God for advice, but never had an answer, so I stopped believing in his earthly messengers! I am the son of an abusive father, who brought many people down in order to save his head! I am a man saved by an angel of infinite mercy and sweetness, an angel I don't deserve to be husband of, let alone father of her children! I am the man who is not proud of himself and would give anything to not be in this position! I am the man who works till late so his father can indulge in his worldly affairs! I am the man who somehow sold his soul to the devil and doesn't know how to get it back! - Thomas realized he was now crying too. - I am the servant of a madman, and I am doomed to live with a weight on my shoulders due to his endless whims! - he gasped for air. - I am what I am, my Lady. I am what life has taught me to be.

Mary was impressed. She had never seen such a display of emotion in Cromwell. She had always believed him to be ruthless and cold, but instead she was looking to a psychologically tortured man. He let go of her wrists, which were now rosy due to the pressure of his fingers, and buried his face in his hands. She couldn't help but feel some compassion. He had devoted his life to her father. A madman. If someone heard him, Cromwell could be charged of treason. However, there was a voice in the back of her head which agreed with him. Henry Tudor was becoming more and more selfish, more and more paranoid, more and more cruel. Mary could only put her hand on Cromwell's shoulder, tasting the salt of her own tears.


	8. A Second Chance

_**Hey again! Thanks everyone for the reviews, they mean a lot to me. **_

_**For all of you Chary fans: there's a new project we (SSLE and myself) started, called Right Here By Me. It's a compilation of one shots inspired in our favourite songs. And you wouldn't believe if we told you how many songs fit Chary like a glove.**_

_**Chapter 8 **_

- Is there anything I should know about, Thomas? - Anne asked cautiously the next day. Like Thomas had said to Mary the previous night, the whole country to the sound of canon bells and fireworks, and some people could have sworn hearing them in Calais. The King was announcing to every living soul the pregnancy of his fifth wife, of his English Rose; but, more than that, the decrepit monarch was bragging loud and clear his manhood, his sexual potency. Or so he thought.

- About what, mein lieben? –Anne smiled to the sound of her native tongue in his lips.

- You and Princess Mary?

He pressed his lips together.

- Oh, about that.

- Yes...?

- Well, we... talked last night. I found her half asleep in the couch. She reacted badly to the news of the Queen's pregnancy, as I expected.

- Poor girl, I can't blame her - said Anne, shaking her hand compassionately.

- Neither do I. But when I said she would be summoned to Court to pay her respects to the Queen, things got worse.

- What happened?

- I advised her to make peace with the Queen. She didn't like my advice, although it was for her own sake.

Anne giggled quietly.

- Princess Mary is not the damsel in distress she appears to be, Thomas. You should know that, you've met her since she was very little.

Thomas thought of admonish her for the misuse of the title. It was _Lady _Mary, not _Princess. _But he restrained himself.

- She called me an heretical, Anne – he muttered. – She said it was my fault that Anne Boleyn and her father married… since I had presented them Thomas Cranmer. She said that if it wasn't for my heresies, her parents would still be married and she would have been happy as she once was.

Anne took his hand and made him at the edge of their bed.

- I am sure she didn't mean to hurt you that way. She was very distressed due to the news of Kitty's pregnancy.

He tried to smile but failed.

- I'm afraid she meant every syllable of what she said to me, Anne. And, to be honest, I believe that most of her accusations are partially right.

Anne was confused.

- Thomas, you are not an heretical – she said reassuringly. – You know that.

- I don't know what I know anymore! – he blurted in anguish. – I understand her point, I really do.

- How?

He sighed. He would have to tell her the tale of the Spanish princess who became Queen of England and fell from grace in the blink of an eye.

- Anne, there was a time where Henry the VIII wasn't the old paranoid pig you have met – she instantly looked at the door, but it was safely closed. If someone heard them, they could both be charged for treason. – He was a young and handsome prince, full of love and joy. He had married his brother's widow, an act of generosity accordingly to almost everyone, and they were happy. They had Princess Mary, whom the King loved dearly. But then the age and the difficult times she had endured before her second marriage started to take its toll on her. She no longer could give the King the male son he had always desired. She had given birth to a baby boy once, but the poor thing didn't last a month. Henry started to become obsessed with a son. His own experience told him that no dynasty is safe without a son, nor secure without at least two of them. He had a bastard son by Lady Blount, but it wasn't enough, of course.

- Then he met Anne Boleyn – said Anne. She didn't know the whole story, but rumors tended to spread fast across Europe.

- No. He took her older sister, Mary Boleyn, as a mistress. He had two children with her: Catherine and Henry Carey.

- Catherine Carey… - that name rang a bell in Anne's mind. – Wasn't she one of my ladies-in-waiting?

- Indeed.

- I had no idea…

- The King never acknowledged them as his children.

_- Because he had already an eye on Anne Boleyn. _

_- Quite possibly, yes – Thomas nodded. – Then, when he tired of Mary, he moved on to Anne. I believe it was a last-minute move for the Boleyns. They had two beautiful daughters and too many ambitions. _

_- And Henry fell in love with Anne._

_- Yes, completely. But there was a problem. In fact, make that two._

_- Katherine and the Pope._

_- Yes. Katherine was the aunt of the Holy Roman Emperor and the last thing Henry needed was a war with Spain. But he found a way of getting rid of her… rather cruelly. _

_- She was a great woman_, as far as I was told.

- She was – Thomas nodded vigorously. – She was extremely popular among her subjects, rich and poor, men and women. Katherine was a woman of great strength and faith. She never gave up fighting, not for her sake, but for her daughter's.

- She had hopes that Mary would be Queen someday?

- Yes. Her mother was Queen by her own right, along with her husband. Isabella and Ferdinand of Aragon and Castille, the Catholic Kings. She raised Mary to be Queen someday. Everything was right on their lives until Anne Boleyn, until the Reformation.

- But the Reformation was inevitable, as you once said – Anne locked her fingers in his soft hair, soothing him.

- And I will keep saying that. But I didn't think the King would use it against its people.

- No one did – she said calmly. – But I believe you and Mary will get over your differences someday, just like she did with me. She's just sad and tired of her father, tired of the latest events. And I can understand her determination in defending the Catholic faith, for it was her only comfort in times of despair. Maybe you two can come to terms. There are many things yet to be done concerning the Reformation, and some others who can be amended or corrected. I'm sure you will succeed in doing so, very discreetly of course.

Thomas cupped her face in his hands and looked deeply in her eyes.

- What have I done to deserve you, mein engel? (_my angel in German). _I would be dead if it wasn't for you.

- And I would be unhappy and not pregnant with our beloved child – she said, putting his hand on her still small belly and making him lie beside her. – Everyone deserves a second chance, Thomas. Try to make the most of yours – she said, kissing him sweetly and cuddling him to sleep.


	9. New Faces

**Chapter 9**

- So how are you feeling, my rose? – the King asked one morning, during breakfast.

- I am fine, Your Majesty. – Katherine smiled brightly.

- No morning sickness yet?

- No, not really – said Katherine, picking a peach from the bowl next to her. – Although I'm starting to crave some special foods – she bit the peach with all her might.

The King smiled, obviously pleased.

- That's a good sign, my love. Let's pray that the rest of your pregnancy goes this smoothly – he leaned forward to caress her belly, or, in this case, the tiny fake belly attached to her own. – I believe you are being well treated by your doctor?

- Yes, Your Majesty. He's a very wise man… although no one could compare to poor Dr. Linacre – she said pitifully. The old doctor had passed away a couple of months before, dying from a _sudden _heart attack. Henry sighed.

- Indeed. But the most important thing is that you're being well treated. It was very thoughtful of your uncle to recommend his own personal physician to attend you – he nodded appreciatively to Norfolk, who was serving him wine. The duke curtseyed deeply.

- I only did what I thought best, Majesty.

- And you did well, Norfolk, you did well – Henry patted him friendly on the shoulder. Behind them, Jane Boleyn, pressed her lips together. If only the King knew the truth.

- Well, concerning my pregnancy… I wish to ask Your Majesty's permission on a very important subject… well, at least to me – Kitty folded her hands in her lap.

The king became serious.

- Is there anything bothering you, sweetheart?

- Yes… I mean, to a certain extent – Katherine said carefully. She could feel Norfolk and Jane's eyes darting at her. – Your Majesty has been far too gracious in letting me pick my ladies as I pleased, but I am afraid I haven't made a wise choice. I was wondering if I can dismiss some of them.

- Are they not behaving properly?

- Well, no. It's only that… this whole subject of pregnancy… scares me a bit – Katherine confessed with an apologetic smile. – My ladies are, as Your Majesty might recall, my friends, the girls with whom I've grown up in Lambeth. They are good spirited and useful, but I am afraid they are as… naïve as I am in terms of how a woman should behave while she is pregnant, how much she needs to rest, what is advisable to do… My point is that I would like to be with some older ladies (not all of them, of course), but with enough knowledge of such affairs. – she shut up, waiting anxiously for her husband's reaction. She sighed inwardly in relief when he nodded.

- I get your point, Katherine. It's a very mature thing to do, my love and I'm sure these ladies will be most honoured to serve you. Also, I believe you will have some help in picking them, will you not?

- Sure, Lady Rochford will help me – she said, smiling to Jane Boleyn, who curtseyed perfectly.

The king nodded, while finishing his breakfast. When he was done, he rose from his seat and kissed his wife's forehead.

- Have a good day, sweetheart. I must see you at dinner.

- Your Majesty – Katherine bowed.

As soon as the King left, the Queen's ladies started protesting like mad chickens.

- Are you mad?

- What have we done wrong?

- Who do you think you are?

- The Queen of England – interrupted Jane Boleyn with such resolution they all went silent. – And you must do as Her Majesty commands and respect her wishes. You will be generously rewarded for your good services – she couldn't help but roll her eyes inwardly. Those girls were empty-brained silly girls, always up to some kind of mischief. – You shall leave tomorrow. Your Majesty – she said, turning to Katherine – why won't you sit down as we wait for your new ladies? They must be here anytime soon.

- Thank you, Lady Rochford, I'm fine – Katherine smiled. – All I can say is thank you for your friendship and loyalty, and assure you that you are not forgotten. I shall provide you with good marriages and a good reward, as a token of my appreciation. Now you may leave.

They all did as she commanded, some reluctantly, dragging their feet. Anne Bassett made a last curtsy to the Queen, but Katherine grabbed her shoulders, making her rise.

- Not you, Nan. I need someone by my side to cheer me up. You too, Kate – she said, turning to her cousin (and stepdaughter, according to some gossip) Catherine Carey.

Catherine remained silent. Anne Bassett beamed in happiness.

- Your Majesty is too gracious – she kissed Kitty's hands, who giggled wholeheartedly.

- Thank you, Nan. Will you see if my new ladies have already arrived?

- Sure, Majesty – and she practically ran out of the room.

When they were alone, Jane sat beside Katherine, gently combing her hair with her fingers.

- You did very well with the King. Your uncle was impressed.

- I aim to please him – Katherine said seriously. – I may have no choice, but I'm doing the best I can.

- It's the only thing we ask of you – Jane caressed Kitty's cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. She could only pray for none of their schemes to be discovered. Then Anne Bassett came in.

- Your Majesty, they are here.

Katherine straightened herself and let out a deep breath.

- Very well, Nan. Let them in.

Thirteen ladies entered the room, curtseying deeply as they did so.

- You may arise, my ladies. You are very welcome to my household – said Kitty in a sympathetic tone. – Now I would ask you to step further, one at a time. I want to know your names, since now you'll be attending me on a daily basis in a very delicate… matter – she said carefully. They all nodded. All of them knew about her uncle's scheme. In fact, they had been handpicked by him.

- You may be the first – said Katherine, gesturing to a lady in her forties on her left to come further. The woman bowed and stood in front of Katherine.

- I am Anne Bray, Baroness Cobham.

- Lady Anne is a cousin of yours. She was present at your cousin's coronation – Jane Boleyn whispered and then passed to the second lady, who looked way younger than Lady Bray, but somehow similar to her.

- And you are…

- Elizabeth Brooke, Majesty – the girl said shyly. – I am the daughter of Lady Bray.

- How old are you?

- Fifteen, Majesty.

- Good. I hope you enjoy the life at Court.

- Thank you Majesty.

- Jane, can you do the presentations? I'm starting to get a little tired – whispered Katherine.

- Sure, your Majesty. The lady next to Mistress Brooke is her aunt, Dorothy Bray and her elder sister, also called Dorothy. Then we have Lady Anne Zouche, another lady in waiting to your late cousin. – She didn't add that Lady Anne was also one of the responsible for testifying against Anne Boleyn in her infamous trial. – This is your aunt, Lady Anne Shelton, sister to your uncle Thomas Boleyn.

An old woman curtseyed lightly. She seemed to study Kitty from head to toe, which made her quite uncomfortable.

But Jane ignored that fact and kept presenting the ladies: Baroness Anne Berkeley, another former lady-in-waiting of Anne Boleyn and also witness at her wedding with the King; Baroness Anne Bourchier, cousin to three Queens of England: Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour and Kitty herself; Lady Elizabeth Holland, mistress of her uncle Norfolk, as well as Elizabeth Howard, the Duchess of Norfolk herself; Mary Fitzroy (née Howard), who was married (and recently a widow) to the King's bastard, Henry Fitzroy; and last, but not the least, Lady Margaret Lee, one of the late Queen Anne Boleyn's friends.

- Do you all understand why are you here? What do you have to do? – asked Katherine.

- Yes, Your Majesty – they all nodded in perfect unison.

Katherine swallowed hard.

- Very well – I must retire now. – She stood up and started walking towards her bedchamber. Jane was ready to followed but Katherine halted her with a gesture.~

- Thank you, but I need to be alone.

Jane nodded reluctantly and watched as the Queen locked the door behind her. Once in her rooms, Katherine dropped to her knees. She wasn't a religious person, not at all, but she felt the urge to pray to God and all the saints. Now that she had seen the faces of her accomplices in her uncle's crazy scheme, she could only pray for their lives. For if someone ever discovered what they were planning, it would be a slaughter like England had never seen.


	10. Cinnamon

**Chapter 10**

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_On with the chapter!_

- Your Majesty, I would like to tell you something – said Mary to Kitty, the day after she returned to Court, two months after the Howard clan gathering around the Queen. They were dining together, along with the King, who immediately arched his eyebrow. In spite of having argued with Cromwell about it (and how she regretted having done so), Mary had considered long and hard and thought he was right. She would better make peace with Katherine (at least apparently).

- Yes, Mary? – said Kitty with that purring, annoying voice of hers.

- I would like… to apologize – Mary lowered her tone, looking directly to her dish. – My behaviour towards you has not been appropriate, and I am sorry.

Katherine blinked in surprise. _She is as sorry as you're pregnant with her father's child, _said a small voice inside her head. Still, it would be better to befriend Mary than to despise her, although Katherine enjoyed doing the latter. It would make her rise even higher in her husband's good graces.

- No need to apologize, Mary – she faked her best smile. – I understand my marriage to the King is something quite… recent – she chose her words carefully, since Henry's gaze was directed at her. – Your father always said you just needed time to get used to it, and he was right – Katherine smiled towards Henry, who kissed her hand. – All is forgiven. I wish nothing more to be your friend from now on, and I'm sure you will be a role model to your future brother – she said, caressing her belly.

Mary had to suppress the urge to slap her for pointing out, once again, that she was pregnant and Mary was not. That she was married and her stepdaughter was not. Instead she looked into Kitty's eyes and smiled.

- Thank you, Your Majesty. Your words give me great joy and relief.

- Katherine. There's no need to be formal with me in private. We are family, are we not? – Kitty said, winking. Mary faked a smile once again.

- Indeed we are – they both looked to the King. – I am very pleased with you, Mary. I knew it was a matter of time for you to come to your senses.

- I ask your forgiveness for being so intransigent, Father.

- No need to, milady – Mary's heart ached a bit. A long time ago, he used to call her "my pearl" instead of this cold "milady". But she bowed her head and ate in silence, until her eyes lit up with an idea.

- What is it, Mary? – noticed King Henry. – Something has just crossed your mind, has it not?

- I was just wondering… if I could invite Lady Anne to the Christmas celebrations. And Lord Cromwell, as her husband, of course. She is to be in confinement after the New Year, so this would be a great opportunity to enjoy a little distraction before doing so – she blurted out.

Katherine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The last thing she needed was someone stealing all the attention from her and from her supposed son. And another pregnant woman, to make things worse. But her husband seemed oblivious to her obvious disagreement.

- That's a wonderful idea. I'm sure she will love it. It must be boring to live in the countryside – said him, with subtle disdain. Mary didn't dare to say that Anne was happier than ever in Essex, away from the court, where she had no responsibilities other than running her household and love her husband dearly. As soon as the meal was over, she excused herself and retired to her rooms, dismissing her ladies and giving them permission to attend the Great Hall's dances and distractions. Then she wrote a note to Anne of Cleves:

_My dear Anne:_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and good spirits. I have asked my father's permission (which he granted) to invite you and your husband to the Christmas celebrations, just before you begin your confinement._

_I think you will amuse yourself. Besides, and forgive me for being a bit selfish, I need you by my side. I can't stand the thought of celebrating Christmas with that Howard creature: she is so futile and annoying it makes me sick. At least we could keep each other company. It would make my task much more bearable with you by my side. _

_With all my love_

_Mary Tudor_

She reread the letter and chided herself for sounding so childish. Whatever. Anne would understand her request. She sealed the letter with her ring and opened the doors carefully, not bothering about wandering through the halls alone. She only stopped in front of a dark wooden door in the other end of the castle.

- Come in.

She entered the office, closing the door behind her. Cromwell was there, but he wasn't alone. A young man, approximately her age, was with him.

- Lady Mary – they said in perfect unison, bowing their heads.

- I'm sorry… I didn't know you had company. I've come in a bad time, Lord Cromwell.

He shook his head and offered her a seat in front of the fireplace.

- Don't worry, milady. This is my son, Gregory. I believe you haven't meet him yet.

The young man curtseyed elegantly.

- Nice to meet you, Mr. Cromwell. The Lady Anne has told me a lot about you.

- Good things, I hope – he answered, and Mary was impressed with his voice. It was different from his father low, velvety tone. It was warm, sweet and smooth, like a gentle breeze.

- Yes, of course. What else you would expect from such a sweet stepmother?

He smiled openly, making his delicate features seem every more pleasant. He had not inherited Cromwell's black hair nor his blue eyes. His hair was light brown and his hazel eyes seemed sincere and humble.

- May I ask why you have come here, milady? – Cromwell's voice interrupted her brief trance.

- Oh, of course… I am here to invite you and the Lady Anne to the Christmas celebrations. If she is good enough to travel, that is. And you are invited too, Mr. Cromwell. Christmas is the family's celebration.

- Thank you, milady. It's such an honour – said Gregory, shyly.

- I am sure Anne will love it. Thank you, Lady Mary – Thomas smiled politely.

- Please give her this letter, would you?

- Sure – he put the parchment in his doublet.

Mary looked straight in his eye as if there was something she wanted to say. He noticed her uncertainty.

- Greg, can you give us a minute?

- Sure – the young man rose from his seat. – It is late, I must leave anyway. Good night, father – he whispered. It warmed Mary's heart to see him embracing his father. That was a side of Cromwell she had never seen. He curtseyed to her and left.

Thomas waited until the door was closed to speak.

- Milady, is there something...

- Yes – she interrupted him. – I want to apologize for our argument. I was tired and confused. I said things I regret deeply. None of this was your fault. I know you don't like her any more than I do – she blurted.

- Milady, I am the one who must apologize. I let my emotions take the best of me.

- You are human, Thomas. Deep down, it must not be easy to be in your skin.

- Not in yours, either – he countered gently.

She sighed.

- I guess it is my fate not to enjoy happiness. But I don't envy the ones who deserve it, like Anne. – They both smiled. – She speaks very highly of you, Cromwell.

- She is far too gracious – he shook his head. – I am but a mere servant compared to her.

- You make her happy, that's all that counts. And that's why I can't hate you. How could I, if you make someone who I love so much (and I quote) _the happiest woman on Earth_?

His hear swelled with love and gratitude.

- Thank you, milady. Please bear in mind that I never wished you ill, in spite of all the things that occurred.

- I know – she said, turning to the door. – Good night, Thomas.

- Good night, Princess Mary – he whispered. She smiled and curtseyed, closing the door behind her. She had not walked a foot when a male voice surprised her.

- Lady Mary.

- Mr. Cromwell.

- It's not safe for you to walk alone and uncovered this late at night – he said concernedly. Let me escort you to your rooms.

Mary blushed involuntarily.

- That isn't proper, Mr. Cromwell. If anyone sees us together, the Court's viper tongues would be restless.

He laughed.

- I insist. Take my coat. It will shield you from indiscreet eyes – and he seemed so well-intentioned that Mary hadn't the heart to refuse. Plus, it flattered her to see he had waited for her, only to keep her safe.

- Well, it seems I can't refuse, can I? – and she covered herself in his coat. Her senses were invaded by the sudden warmth of the fabric against her skin. His body's warmth was still glued to it, as was his smell. Cinnamon, as far as she could tell. It was subtle; yet intoxicating… it suited him.

He offered her his arm and gently guided her through the halls. Her tiny hand marvelled at the strength of his grip, the scent of cinnamon always present, leaving a trail behind them.

She didn't noticed they had arrived to her chambers' doors until he stopped.

- Here we are, milady – he whispered.

- Thank you – she whispered, giving his coat back. – Good night, Mr. Cromwell.

- Good night, milady – and he kissed her hand, leaving a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach. Mary sneaked into her chambers and into her bed as soon as possible.

The last thing she recalled as her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier was a faint aroma of cinnamon surrounding her.


	11. Christmas

**Chapter 11**

**25th December 1541**

- Merry Christmas, Kitty – whispered Jane Boleyn, sitting at the edge of the Queen's bed, watching her rubbing her eyes in the first rays of morning. Katherine smiled weakly.

- Merry Christmas, Jane – she said with almost no enthusiasm.

- What is it? You don't look like your usual self – said Jane, rubbing her shoulder.

- I am tired, tired of all this! – Katherine said under her breath. She had bags under her eyes and her skin looked paler than usual. – My back hurts, my legs hurt, my whole body hurts due to that damn belly – she added resentfully. Jane didn't blame her: the cottoned pebbles were growing heavier and heavier as time went by, and they still had almost five months to go through until the end. Still, she tried to comfort her.

- You are doing a wonderful job. No one suspects anything. We have made our arrangements. All your midwives are loyal to us. The ones who aren't were conveniently dismissed or employed elsewhere. Dr. Linacre was a bit more difficult to get rid of, I admit – she said, looking downcast.

- You killed him, didn't you? – hissed Katherine.

- We did what it needed to be done – countered Jane. – He was an old man, anyway. And Dr Butts is abroad, and we'll make sure he remains there at least until you have delivered your child.

- You make it sound so easy – mocked Kitty. – I am but a pawn in your games, are I not?

_Yes, _said a viper voice inside Jane's head.

– No, Kitty. You are the central piece of all this. And let me tell you, your uncle is pleased so far, although he never admits it. You have faced this very bravely and graciously. You look radiant, at least in public. You are always of good cheer and elegant manners. I understand it is literally a heavy burden for you to carry on, but keep in mind that you must begin your confinement soon. You'll be able to rest more and be more at ease – she said lightly.

- I am already counting the days – sighed Kitty, seeming a bit more tranquilized. – It looks like I have aged a decade in the last four months.

- You silly thing, you have so not! – exclaimed Jane. She fetched a small mirror and put it on Kitty's knee, wrapping her arms around her and resting her chin on the top of her head. Kitty felt a sudden wave of warmth running through her body. It had been years since anyone had hugged her. – Look at you, Kitty. True, you may be a little tired, but look at your beautiful hair… your soft features… your seductive smile… you are a beauty, Katherine!

- Thank you, Jane – said Katherine, smiling to her mirrored image. – Will you help me dress? I need to look gorgeous today.

- Sure, I'll fetch you a warm bath first – said Jane, clapping her hands.

Half an hour later, Katherine was being scrubbed and washed from head to toe in boiled rosewater. She wrapped herself in a sheet while their maids helped her dry herself and attach the fake belly Then Jane Boleyn helped her dress into an outstanding, long sleeved purple dress, whose bodice was embroidered with the finest gold, matching her hood and golden jewellery.

- How do I look? – she asked Anne Bassett.

- More beautiful than I've ever seen, Your Majesty. I believe a certain young gentleman will be amazed – she whispered into Kitty's ear, while adjusting her hood.

In a blink of an eye, Kitty turned to her, glaring coldly.

- Say a word about him to anyone, Nan, and you'll be out of here before you have time to say "I am sorry".

Anne Bassett lowered her gaze and uttered:

- I am sorry for my manners, Your Majesty.

- You better be – said Katherine with an icy tone. – Shall we go, Ladies? – she asked aloud. They all placed themselves in procession and started walking to the Westminster Abbey, where the Christmas Mass was to take place. Kitty took her seat between the King and the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth. Anne of Cleves was only to arrive later that evening. Together they heard Thomas Cranmer, Arcebishop of Canterbury, saying prayers and blessings to their born-to-be child.

Later that evening, when the whole Court was reunited at the Great Hall, a herald knocked three times on the floor to get everyone's attention.

- THE LADY ANNE OF CLEVES AND BARON THOMAS CROMWELL, EARL OF ESSEX!

Everyone bowed to her presence, as Anne of Cleves walked graciously towards the High Table, her arm on her husband's, ready to take her seat beside the Lady Mary. They stopped and curtseyed deeply.

- Your Majesties – she said, her German accent lighter than ever. – It is such an honour to be here enjoying this celebration.

- It is a pleasure, Lady Anne – said the King, amiably. – You look wonderful – he said in a whisper, making Kitty grumble and Cromwell snort. Inwardly, of course.

- You're Majesty is far too kind – she said politely.

- How far along are you? – the Queen's eyes darted at her belly.

- Five months, Your Majesty. I shall begin my confinement very soon.

- Me too – nodded Kitty. – I hope all goes well with your deliverance.

- Yours too, Majesty – bowed Lady Anne, before her and Thomas took their seats. Kitty watched her from the corner of her eye slightly envious. Mary and Elizabeth were chatting merrily with the German Duchess, and from time to time one could see her hands entwine with her husbands in a loving manner. Sometimes Cromwell would tell her something in German which made her laugh delicately. They seemed very happy together. And she had a child growing in her womb instead of cotton and hard pebbles… a real, living, breathing child.

A child which was soon to be taken away from her and put in the royal cradle.


	12. Births and Surprises

**Chapter 12**

_So here I am with a new chapter. Just one thing before we start: since the last chapter took place in December 1541, this one will advance to March 1542. I know that Katherine Howard (the historical figure) was beheaded on February 1542, but in this story she'll live… for now *insert evil laugh here*_

After the New Year, as expected, Anne of Cleves began her confinement. She was nervous but at the same time bored with the perspective of spending the next four months enclosured in a room, but then her husband surprisingly proved to be one step ahead of the men of his time. Although it was not custom for the men of that times to visit his wives during their confinement, or receive any visits other than doctors or midwives, Thomas Cromwell insisted in visit her everyday. One of those days, when Anne was already on her eight month of pregnancy (and third of confinement) he went even further to please her.

- Anne, I have a special visitor to present you – he said, smiling at the doorway and moving aside.

- Mary! – Anne couldn't hide her feelings, forgetting for once the protocol and simply opening her arms to the young lady who hugged her as tightly as possible without hurting her. – How wonderful it is to have you here! How did you manage that?

- I have become an expert in the art of pleading my father – she rolled her eyes. Long ago, she could simply snap her fingers (so to speak, of course, since she prided herself on not being spoiled or futile) and immediately get her father's permission to go play outside, to ride her favourite horse or to call her ladies-in-waiting's daughters to keep her company. Now that she was a woman of twenty-six, she had to beg her father's good graces, since he was married to a vain and silly harlot who, in spite of having reconciled with her in public and in front of her husband, continued to subtly poison his father's mind and ears, especially now that she believed to carry the country's heir. Although the Prince of Wales and the first in the line of succession was her brother Edward, it was whispered (much to Mary's chagrin) that his health was even frailer than hers had been at such tender age, so many had secretly started to put their hopes in Kitty's belly. The feeling of _déjà vu _was difficult for Mary to bear, even more considering that Kitty was the relative of that whore who had twisted his father's mind not so long ago.

– But personally I believe Lord Cromwell here had something to say on that matter – she looked over her shoulder to Thomas, with a playful smirk in her lips which matched his own.

- I only tried to bring you both satisfaction – he said, shooking his head. – Now if you excuse me, I have to go back to work – and he crossed the room to kiss Anne before leaving them alone.

- I am so lucky to have him – said Anne dreamily, looking at the door from where he had left.

- I believe you are, indeed – Mary had to agree. Anne had never looked happier and Thomas… well, at the surface he was still the cold and calculist man of state, but Mary was learning to uncover the softer man hidden so many years beneath the robes of Chancellor. That was certainly Anne's doing: her kind nature could transform even the worst of men in something better. – How are you doing? The big day is approaching, is it not?

- Yes, it is – Anne smiled. – Soon I will be able to hold my child in my arms. I dream about it everyday.

- Are you nervous? With the deliverance, I mean?

- Yes – Anne lowered her tone. – It's my first, and as much as I try to keep my spirits light for Thomas's sake, I can't help but worry.

Mary could imagine her feelings. In her life she only had seen one woman in labour, her dear Queen Jane, and that had ended tragically, with Jane dead barely two weeks after the deliverance. Nevertheless, she tried to reassure her former stepmother.

- Don't think too much about it. I'm sure God will bless you with a healthy child and ease your pain.

- I pray so. This last month has been a nightmare: my back hurts all the time, my legs are crampy… The doctors say the baby is slowly trying to find his way out during the last month – she laughed.

- What if it is a girl? – Mary let her tongue slip and cursed herself immediately.

- I've asked Thomas that question many times. His answer is always the same: I don't have a country to rule and a throne to pass to my children. So, as long as it is a healthy baby, we could have a girl every year.

Mary couldn't help but laugh. Although it pained her to admit, she envied Anne's life: she was loved by her husband, adored by her stepson, cherished by many former subjects, peasants or not, admired by both her former stepdaughters and free to live as she pleased in the quietness of the countryside, with no obligation to present herself at court except on special occasions. Mary chided herself: Anne deserved every moment of happiness the Lord had chosen to pour on her and it wasn't her fault that things had changed so much in the last decade.

- Well, that's good news. Very few men in this country would say the same – Mary smiled.

- I guess not – Anne nodded, resting her head in the pillows and yawning lightly. – I'm sorry, I am always tired lately – she blushed a little bit.

- You should rest – said Mary, rising from the edge of the bed. – I will take a stroll in the gardens while my rooms are being arranged.

- How long will you stay?

- One or two weeks, at the most.

- That's wonderful – Anne beamed. – Enjoy the sunshine for me, will you? – with one last smile and a small curtsy Mary left the room towards the gardens, almost bumping into someone as soon as she gave a step outside. She could tell who he was even before his eyes had met hers.

- Mr. Cromwell – she said, regaining her balance.

- I am so sorry, milady – Gregory said worriedly. – Are you alright?

- Yes, yes, I should have been more careful. I was lost in my thoughts. Have you come to visit your stepmother? I'm afraid she is asleep by now. I've just left her room.

- I'll see her when she wakes up, then. Those last weeks have been exhausting for her. The doctors say the baby is probably heavier than the most.

- That should be a good sign. It means he or she will be a strong baby. But she looks radiant, even despite her pains.

- Indeed. I have never seen such a gracious woman during pregnancy.

- You are very fortunate to be able to visit her, although it is certainly not usual, especially for men.

- What harm can we do to her, except lifting her spirits and keep her some company? Speaking of company, I see my father has succeeded in his plan to bring you here.

- You knew about that?

- Sure, he told me. He said you would grab the opportunity to stay away from your father's spouse with both hands – he said with a playful smile.

- Well I have to admit he is right. She's probably the most annoying creature who has ever walked the earth. I am relieved to be away from her. Anne is by far greater company.

- How long will you stay?

- Maybe two weeks. I was thinking of taking a walk while my ladies are installing herselves and my room is being arranged. Will you join me?

Mary could have slapped herself for being so ill-disciplined. She was a maid, she shouldn't have invited him to walk alone with her, although her heart jumped in happiness when he smiled.

- It will be my pleasure – he said, clasping his hands behind his back. They started walking in silence, but it was a comfortable one. Mary was the one who broke it.

- How come I haven't met you during my last visit? I've stayed for more than a month, if I recall correctly.

- I was in Oxford back then. Finishing my studies – he added.

- Are you a lawyer?

- I hope so – he smiled again and Mary couldn't help but join him. His smile was warm, welcoming, contagious. – I hope to be elected for the Parliament very soon.

- I'm sure you will do a great job. You seem to be a good man – Mary cursed herself and her wholehearted tongue.

- How do you know? We have barely met – he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

- I… don't… - she struttered. – It's something I can tell, I don't know how. You look good natured, that's all – she shrugged.

- I feel flattered, milady. Too bad that most women in court don't think so highly of me.

- They don't? – Mary seemed startled.

- No. The only thing they seem to notice about me is my father's money. I look for someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I can provide her. Furthermore, some of them are so dumb they don't even attract me.

Mary couldn't help but laugh.

- Well, if you're looking for a philosopher among English women, I fear you will die single and childless – she couldn't help but tease him. He wasn't offended, for she joined her laughter.

- That's mostly true. But there are some exceptions. One of the things my father admired about Thomas More, although their different views on politics and religion, was the way he educated his daughters. His eldest is said to be one of the brightest women of England. Along with you, milady.

Mary blushed.

- How do you know that?

- You are the daughter of the Queen Katherine and the granddaughter of the Catholic Kings. You are born to reach high places milady. And who says that women can be as educated as men?

- You are right. One of my mothers greatest dreams was to fund a school for girls only. She used to say that although this country has done nothing for its women, English women could do much for their country, if given the right chances.

- My sister Anne would have loved to be part of that. Before the sweating sickness, we used to bet on which one of us would learn Greek faster. But then she was gone. All the women of my house were gone – and his voice saddened.

- I'm so sorry – Mary said sincerely.

- I haven't studied Greek ever since. It reminds me too much of her. I preferred to focus on other subjects.

- Such as?

- Italian. I love Italian. – he said, meeting her eyes.

- Really? Why? I have learnt it too, quando io era bambina (_when I was a little girl). _

- C'e il idioma del cuore (_it's the language of the heart)._ His accent was perfect and Mary felt her heart melt a little bit. She was about to answer when a sudden cry of pain was heard. She could recognize that voice easily.

- Anne! – she said, picking up her skirts and running towards the manor, followed by Gregory. One of Anne's ladies met them outside.

- Milady, Frau Anne is in labour! What should we do? It's not time yet !

- Unfortunately, we have no choice. It's the baby who decides these matters, not the mother! – said Mary. – Mr. Cromwell, go and fetch your father as quickly as you can. I'll go in and stay by Anne's side during the deliverance.

- Sure – he said, mounting his horse and disappearing in the woods.

Mary ran to Anne's bedchamber. The German princess laid in her wet sheets, hair dishevelled, legs wide open and beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

- MARY! – she cried in pain. – Mary, it is time!

- I know, my dear, I know. The doctor is already here – she said, nodding to an old man who came forward.

- Please make it stop! – cried Anne. – It hurts too much!

- I need you to breathe, milady and push whenever I tell you so. Is that alright?

- Yes – said Anne, between deep breaths. Strangely, it calmed her to breathe like that. However, she gripped Mary's hand with such force that the poor princess feared her fingers would break.

- Now push, my lady! PUSH! – incited the eldest of the midwives, while the others fetched towels and bowls of hot water.

All Mary could hear was Anne's cries. Silently, she prayed that Gregory could bring Thomas home soon, and that the Lord could spare his family from tragedy this time.

_Meanwhile, in Whitehall_

_- _Father – Gregory ran into the room, not caring about announcing himself first. Thomas jumped a little, along with the Imperial Ambassador Eustace Chapuys, with whom he was having a meeting.

- Gregory – he said in a stern tone. – Can't you see I am busy?

- Forgive me, Excellency, but Lady Anne has gone into labour!

- WHAT? - Cromwell rose from his seat. – But it isn't time yet!

- Go tell that to my brother or sister – answered Gregory.

- Eustace, I have to go. I'm sorry – said Cromwell, patting Chapuys in the shoulder.

- Of course, of course, Lord Cromwell – the Imperial Ambassador grabbed his arm. – Good luck. I will pray for Lady Anne.

- Thanks, we will need every prayer we can muster – said Cromwell, running down the hall with his son behind him. – RAFE – he spotted his secretary coming towards him. If the King asks for me, tell him I am in Essex. It's a matter of life or death!

And with that both Cromwells were out of the castle, riding their horses as if their lives depended on it.

_Essex_

- ONE FINAL PUSH, MILADY! – cried the midwife. With a shrilling scream, Anne did as she was told, and everybody in the room rejoiced as a baby's wail was heard.

- What is it? – asked Mary anxiously.

- It is a healthy girl, Lady Mary.

Mary beamed in happiness.

- Did you hear, Anne? It is a girl, a beautiful girl!

The only answer she got was a loud cry of pain.

- Anne? ANNE, WHAT'S WRONG? – Mary was starting to panick.

- It is… not over… yet! – Anne gasped, crying in pain, scratching the blood-stained sheets.

- I can see another head! – exclaimed other midwife!

- Another? – Mary was confused. _Twins? _No wonder why Anne was having such a hard time lately.

- Milady, one last effort and everything will be fine! – cheered the doctor. Anne nodded and took a deep breath, pushing… and pushing… and pushing harder.. until another baby's cries finally filled the room.

_An hour later _

Thomas peeked his head through the door, only to find Anne laid back, already in a clean nightgown. Her expression was peaceful, but she looked a bit fragile. For a moment, his stomach turned in fear.

- Don't worry, she is just sleeping – said a calm voice beside him. It was Mary, who sat in a cushioned bed near a white wooden cot, cradling a baby in her arms. – Come in, Lord Cromwell. You must want to see your children?

- Children? – asked Gregory, who had sneaked into the room following his father. – That means…

- It's more than one – said Cromwell in awe, looking at the cot where a tiny baby boy slept peacefully. – My God, twins! – he said, taking the baby in his arms. The small bundle wept a bit, but Thomas managed to calm him a few seconds later, nestling him safely in his chest.

- Hush, hush, little one. It's me, your father – he said, kissing the small strand of blond hair on the top of his newborn son's head. Mary smiled wholeheartedly.

- And this is your daughter – she said, uncovering a tiny black-haired girl from the crook of her neck.

- They aren't quite alike, are they? – said Gregory, visibly radiant. – I guess this young lady is going to take after you – he said, carefully looking over Mary's shoulder and caressing his newborn sister's cheek.

- They are beautiful, aren't they? – said a voice behind them.

- Anne – Thomas expression was of love and admiration. – How are you feeling sweetheart? – he said, carefully sitting at the edge of the bed in order not to wake his son.

- I'm tired, but otherwise I am fine. Can I hold him? – she asked. Thomas passed her the bundle and kissed her lovingly. She rested her head on his chest and kept cradling their son. Gregory moved the cot to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge of it, still awed by his new sister.

- How will we call them? – asked Anne.

- What do you suggest for this little lad?

- I don't know. English people are not very… original in that matter, are they? Everyone is called Henry, George, Thomas or something like that.

They all laughed.

- What about Stephen? – asked Gregory. – It's not a very common name.

- Stephen Cromwell – Anne said aloud. – Sounds good to me – she said, looking up to her husband. He simply nodded.

- Stephen it will be. And our little princess?

- Well, I believe their godmother has the right to choose her name – Anne said, winking to Mary.

- Godmother? – Mary repeated.

- I thought it would be fitting, since you have witnessed their birth – Anne smiled.

- Thank you, Anne. It means a lot to me – said Mary, smiling at the baby sleeping in her arms. – What about Eleanor?

- It's a beautiful name – agreed Thomas. – Welcome to the world, my little ones – he said, while Mary placed them in the cots. Anne yawned, visibly tired, joined by Mary.

- Looks like someone needs to rest – said Gregory. – It's better for us to leave, Father.

- You go ahead, Greg. I'll stay here with my wife.

Mary and Gregory exchanged looks and smiled. The young man escorted her to the door, closing it behind him. The last thing he saw of this father was his dark figure nestling his wife against him and dozing off to sleep with the German duchess in his arms.


	13. Kidnapping and Death

**Chapter 13 **

The twins were christened the following week. Although Mary despised Cranmer, she knew he was a friend of Thomas and Anne, so she did not complain when he poured the holy water on the babies' heads, who wept softly. Eleanor and Stephen Cromwell behaved remarkably well, not weeping nor crying, but instead looking curiously at their godparents, Mary and Gregory.

Anne squeezed Thomas's hand discreetly and rested her head on his shoulder. She said nothing, but everyone could tell her beaming happiness, her bright smile matched by his own. When Anne was casted aside and humiliated by Henry the VIII, her sadness was almost unbearable, not because of her annulment (actually, she welcomed the news of her demise and new title with the utmost relief), but due to the prospect of not having the opportunity to experience the joys of motherhood, something she had longed for with all her might. However, it looked like God had chosen to fill the void in her life by giving her a loving husband despite all the wrong he had done in his life, and most of all, by blessing her with two wonderful, healthy babies who would fill their home with laughter and happiness. As for Thomas… well, he didn't expect to be alive, for starters, let alone be a father again. He slightly kissed Anne's hair, thanking the Lord for his new life.

Meanwhile, in Hampton Court

- So the damn child is born and I am only informed a week after the event? A WEEK? – hissed Norfolk between gritted teeth, shaking his servant by the shoulders.

- I am sorry, sir – stuttered the young lad, trembling in fear. Norfolk let go of his shoulders and started pacing back and forth. – Our informer says it is a couple: a boy and a girl.

- A couple? – Norfolk could barely hide his surprise. – The King's mare gave birth to a healthy couple?

- Yes, Your Grace.

- Very well – said Norfolk, concealing his astonishment. – Send for Lady Rochford and Sir Francis Bryan to meet me. Now. – The boy bowed and left. Ten minutes later, both Jane Boleyn and Francis Bryan entered the room.

- It's a couple. A boy and a girl – the duke blurted out, not caring for formalities.

- So I have heard. A blonde, blue-eyed boy – nodded Bryan, while Lady Rochford couldn't hide a devilish smile.

Thomas Howard turned to face the eye-patched man in front of him.

- How do you know?

- I have my own informants too… and cheaper than yours – snorted Bryan with malice. Under normal circumstances, Norfolk would have demanded to know more. Bryan was supposed to do what he was told and nothing more. But he was too satisfied to care. God seemed to smile upon his plans.

- It's a blessing that both of them are healthy – commented Jane Boleyn acidly. – They were born long before the due time. Katherine still has a month of confinement ahead.

- Can't you pretend a premature birth? – asked Norfolk.

- Wouldn't it be too coincidental? – countered Jane. – Both the Queen and the Lady Anne's children are born before their time, only days apart, and one of them was kidnapped before the royal birth – she studied both men in each side of her chair with a cold look. Norfolk sighed and nodded.

- Unfortunately, you are right. How shall we proceed then? - silence was the only answer, until Bryan had an idea.

- What if I take him to one of our family estates, not very far away from here, until next month? He would be taken care of, well fed and everything. And when the time is right, the women will set up a deliverance and he will be presented as Henry's new son.

Thomas Howard nodded thoughtfully, with a small smirk playing on his lips.

- Sometimes having a scoundrel like you in the family comes in handy, Bryan. With all the due respect, of course – Bryan laughed wholeheartedly. He had been called much worse, so he ignored the insult.

- When will you do it? Tonight? – Jane Boleyn turned to Francis.

- No. According to my informant, it is better to do it during the day. The house is more unguarded – interrupted Norfolk, pacing back and forth.

- My informant concurs – said Bryan, deviously.

- How do you plan to sneak into the house during the day when everyone is awake and fully alert? – Jane insisted.

- According to my informant, Lady Anne and Lady Mary go to the chapel together to pray every single morning, and that usually lasts an hour. It gives me enough time to sneak in without being seen… all of their ladies join them in that occasion.

- A Protestant and a Catholic praying together? That's something I have never heard of – mused Norfolk.

- And the maids who are nursing the children? Surely they won't neglect them.

- My informant said she would distract them. How she will manage that it's not up to me to know.

- Ahhh, so it's a woman – mocked Norfolk. For someone with a deformed eye, your success with women is remarkable, Bryan.

- I have started to face my missing eye not as a deformity but instead as part of my charm – said Bryan, shrugging. Norfolk and Jane stifled a laugh.

- If you say so – Norfolk turned his back to them. – So tomorrow morning it will all begin – he said, repressing a shiver down his spine in anticipation.

- God helps us – muttered Jane.

- Amen – sighed Francis. The next day would be a busy one, that was for sure.

The next morning, as it had been planned, Sir Francis Bryan arrived earlier at Anne and Thomas's manor in Essex. The Lady Mary and Anne of Cleves had already gone for the chapel to say their daily prayers, followed by their ladies. Surprisingly, both of the children governesses followed them, which gave Francis the perfect excuse to sneak in the nursery, with the help of Thomas Wriothesley, one of Cromwell's men who was on Norfolk's pocket. Inside the nursery, a young blonde woman was already waiting, with a white bundle on her arms.

- Good morning, Herr Bryan – she said, in a thick German accent. – Here is the boy, as I promised you.

- Good morning, Gerte – he kissed her hand. - How did you manage to get rid of the ladies? – his eyes scanned the empty room.

- It was easy – she shrugged. – I offered myself to look after them. They grabbed the opportunity with both hands. Despite their adorableness, it gets boring to spend your days changing these two's smelly diapers.

Brandon peeked at the bundle, uncovering a tiny-faced, blue-eyed baby who looked at him with curiosity.

- He's just what we need – he muttered. – Shall we? – he led Gerte outside, covered by a hooded cloak which covered the bundle in her arms. Wriothesley followed them in silence, but couldn't hide his surprise when he saw Gerte getting up in the saddle with Bryan.

- Gerte, what are you doing?

- I will go with Sir Francis. He promised to reward me for my service. I don't want to live buried in the countryside anymore – she smiled lovingly at Bryan, who faked his kindest smile towards her, nodding towards Wriothesley, who understood the plan without a blink. He smiled too.

- I hope you have a good life, Gerte. Have a safe trip, Sir Bryan.

When Wriothesley got out of sight, Bryan started to ride along the river bend. The breeze was cooler, but pleasant, and Gerte smiled in delight, pulling off her hood and letting her blonde hair shine in the sunlight.

- I am so happy to be free from Essex, mein lieben – Bryan snorted inwardly at her naivety. He had bedded her enough times to convert her in his spy inside Cromwell's home, alluring her with promises of marriage and very good sex, of course. Women were so easy to manipulate, almost like living puppets. She had done her job perfectly, and now he had to find a way of getting rid of her. And the answer came to him in a second, while looking at the water running beside them. Pulling her closer, her back against his chest, he kissed her neck from behind, making her sigh contentedly. With only one hand, Bryan dug his fingers into her neck, until a cracking sound was heard and Gerte's lifeless body fell like a haystack in the cold water.

One less to go, thought Francis, while he contemplated her body sinking into the depths of the water. Then, he turned her back, with little Cromwell safely clinging to his chest, and rode south like his life depended on it.


	14. Searching

**Chapter 14**

A loud crying welcomed Thomas and Gregory Cromwell into their manor in Essex. The painful sound came from Anne's lodgings, so both men rushed in. When Thomas heard that his son had disappeared, his first reaction was to call for their horses and ride home as fast as the stallion could take him. He was supposed to have a Privy Council meeting with the King that afternoon, but frankly he couldn't care less. He would speak to the King and to his bloody Council later. Right now, his heart dropped to his feet when he saw his heartbroken wife sobbing uncontrollably, surrounded by the Lady Mary and her ladies-in-waiting.

- Anne – he crossed the room in two steps and knelt before her.

- Thomas – her voice was trembling, almost choked. – _Es tut mir Leid_… I am sorry, this was all my fault! I should have been here, I should not have left them alone!

- No, Anne, it's my fault – Mary whispered. – If I hadn't insisted for you to come with me and join me in my prayers, none of this would have happened.

Thomas lifted his gaze to the crowd of servants and attending ladies.

- Can anyone tell me how this happened? – and his voice sounded cold. He wasn't happy with them at all. How could someone have broken into his house in plain daylight and steal his son without being noticed?

Frau Krause, Anne's most trusted attending lady and also her former translator, stepped forward.

- We were all the chapel, Lord Cromwell, when all this happened. There was no one at home… - and her voice trembled.

- Yes? – Cromwell prompted her, his voice sharper.

- There was no one at home except Juliet and Gabriella, but they joined us later – the two ladies who were supposed to be in charge of the royal children paled like ghosts. Thomas turned to them, a silent demand in his cold blue eyes.

- We had nothing to do with your son's disappearance, Lord Cromwell – the oldest of them, Juliet, spoke up, her German accent thickened due to the nervous state she was in. – Gerte came in and offered to take care of them while we were at the chapel. She used to be a good and responsible young lady. We didn't expect her to… steal your poor baby.

- Where is she now? – Cromwell suppressed the urge to slap them. How could they trust his son into the hands of a girl they didn't know, a girl of no importance?

- We have searched the house from top to bottom, and she's nowhere to be seen, Lord Cromwell – interrupted Lady Susan Clarencieux, Mary's chief lady-in-waiting.

- She ran away with Stephen – sobbed Anne, covering her face in her hands. Thomas wanted to scream at the two ladies from the top of his lungs and dismiss them right away, but then when he looked once more to her broken face he didn't have the heart to do it. His screaming would scare her and make her feel even more miserable.

- Where is Ellie, by the way? – his eyes were like a burning iron darting at his household.

- Here – came a male voice from the doorway. It was Gregory, who meanwhile had gone to pick up his little sister, afraid that whoever stole Stephen would try to steal her too. His sister was peacefully sleeping in his arms. He passed the bundle to Anne, who clutched her daughter close to her heart.

- My angel, my little angel…

Thomas kissed his daughter's forehead and then took a decision.

- Here's what we're going to do. I am going to search this area with some of my men. In the meanwhile, Anne, I want you to stay inside, and you as well, Lady Mary – both nodded. Thomas leaned forward to kiss his wife's lips, still wet and salty from her tears.

- This wasn't your fault, my love. Don't ever say that – Anne could only wrap her arms around his shoulders as a response. Thomas held her tight and kissed her hair before letting go of her arms. – Nor yours, Lady Mary – caressing her hands into his. Mary tried to smile in gratitude, but she couldn't.

- Lady Susan – he called Mary's attending lady. – Please make sure they eat properly and rest as much as possible given the circumstances. And take good care of my daughter. I don't want both of them to be missing. Her cot must be removed to Anne's bedchamber and one of my servants will sleep next to the bed, just in case. My son Gregory will stay here while I search for Stephen.

Lady Susan bowed deeply.

- Richard, you come with me – Cromwell grabbed the arm of his nephew.

- What about me, father?

- You stay here, Gregory. I need someone to check on Anne and Mary.

- But my brother… - Gregory tried to protest.

- I know – Thomas put his hands on his shoulders. – Greg, please. These ladies look very distressed. They need a male presence in the house, otherwise they won't calm down. I know you want to help me, but please do as I tell you. – Gregory nodded and by impulse threw his arms around his father's neck. Thomas embraced himself firmly. They were both scared, enraged, confused, sad – all at the same time – but they were trying to hold themselves for both Anne and Mary's sake.

- We'll find him, Greg – Thomas whispered in his son's ear. – We'll find him.

Later that day, Whitehall

- What do we owe this pleasure, Bryan? – Norfolk's voice was cold as usual. Jane Parker sipped her goblet of ale with curiosity.

- Updates on our… mission – Bryan sat in front of them. Jane and Norfolk's gazes became more interested. – First, the deed is done. The baby is in a Howard estate, which one I won't reveal, of course.

- How is he? – asked Jane.

- Blond, blue-eyed, a bit tinier than most babies, but healthy. My informant said it was normal for him to be tiny, since he was born early, but all doctors said he was nevertheless as healthier as a baby of such tender age can be.

- Thank God. It would be easy to pass him for a newborn – Jane whispered.

- I just hope that your informant can keep her mouth shut – snickered Norfolk.

- Don't worry about that, she won't tell a living soul – said Bryan, amusing himself inwardly with the pun.

- Good. What was the other thing you wanted to mention, Bryan? – This time, Bryan took more time to answer, his eyes flickering from Norfolk to Jane.

- The king knows of the disappearance – Jane covered her lips with her mouth while Norfolk took a sharp intake of breath.

- What did His Majesty say?

- He seemed very distressed and he asked me and Suffolk to look for the child, and to gather some men to help us on the journey.

Norfolk laughed.

- Well, isn't that great… We can use this to our advantage.

- By fooling the King and do nothing while he expects him to search for the baby? – Jane asked venomously.

- No, you silly thing – scolded Norfolk. – We will give the King the wrong clues – and they both laughed. – Once again, His Majesty Henry the Eighth will be made a fool by his most loyal and faithful servants.

- There's still one problem: his Majesty's royal lapdog, known as Duke of Suffolk – interrupted Bryan.

- I'm sure you can take care of him – said Norfolk, rising from the seat and patting Bryan's shoulder while heading towards the door. – Just make sure he doesn't meddle with our affairs, and all shall be fine – and with that he closed the door behind him.

Bryan turned his head to Jane Parker. She blushed, feeling his eye on her. His gaze was worth a thousand words. She bit her lip nervously and rose from the chair.

- I should leave as well… - her sentence was interrupted by Bryan's hand on her wrist.

- Wait, Lady Rochford. I need to claim my reward.

- Re… reward? – she struttered. She was a bit scared of this eye-patched, scruffy man, but at the same time, a whole different sensation started to build on the bottom of her hips, something she hadn't felt in such a long time, but nevertheless took only a second to recognize. _Arousal_.

- Yes, reward – he said, outlining her jaw with the fingertips of his free hand.

- But… I… have no money… you should discuss that matter with His Grace – she gasped for air. He laughed and shook his head.

- Your uncle won't give me the money until the baby is "born", so to speak. He says it's not good to count the eggs before they are hatched. So, I am obliged to think of something else. Something more… immediate – and with that he brushed his lips into hers, smiling when she deepened the kiss and carrying Lady Rochford to his bedchamber.


	15. Royal Parade and Royal ReBirth

_A/N: Thanks __**Good Work **__for the original idea for the first part of this chapter, and __**SSLE **__(Dani) for the usual and much appreciated brainstorm. _

_This is utterly ridiculous, _thought Mary, sighing discreetly for the thousandth time, while she rode her white horse behind the Royal Carriage, as part of the huge parade his father had organized, on Katherine Howard's behalf. Mary believed huge was not enough to describe it. What was the point, Mary questioned inwardly, to praise the Queen when her child had not been born yet? What was the point of celebrating Queen Katherine – the title made her stomach churn in discomfort – as a goddess of fertility since she had nothing to prove it, other than an enormous, perfectly round-shaped belly? How could Katherine be oblivious to the mindlessness of the event – three hundred men and women marching through London mounted in white horses, servants throwing rose petals painted in gold off the streets, others dressed as angels, singing praises to the Queen and the future Duke of York who was happily resting on her mother's belly, while the Royal Couple paraded themselves in a white and golden carriage, waving to the people who watched with surprise such display of frivolous pride?

_I wonder why you still care about being surprised, milady Mary, _sounded a small voice inside her head. Katherine Howard loved to be the center of the attentions, and that was why she seemed to be so pleased, much to the dismay of her stepdaughter. If Mary had had something to say on that matter, she would have refused the invitation politely. However, she knew she didn't have a choice other than comply to her father's request to be present in the celebrations of Katherine's… condition, to put it nicely. Only the Lady Anne was allowed to stay in Essex. Henry didn't have the heart to oblige her to be present. She seemed to be so heartbroken, at least from what Cromwell and Mary had told him. If the latter had any right to choose, she would be with Anne now, comforting her over her son's disappearance while cooing her dear Eleanor. Mary smiled, thinking of how, despite that awful situation, she liked to be in Essex, far away from the Court. Everything seemed so easy there: she could go wherever she wanted, talk of whatever subjects she wanted. She could even take a walk in someone's company without being reproached. And by someone she meant… Gregory, Thomas Cromwell's son. He had been a helpful source of kindness and support for everyone, including herself, during the last few days, just before Mary was summoned back to Court. Maybe it was because she felt vulnerable and shaken with her godson's disappearance, but her attitude towards Gregory had changed from mere formality and politeness to a genuine, uncompromised interest and probably the beginning of a friendship, despite their differences in terms of religion and ranking. Some might say it wasn't proper for her to befriend Cromwell's son, but what harm could someone as polite and well-mannered as Gregory bring her, other than proving himself to be a great company in times of need?

- You seem very happy today, my Lady – a male voice was heard behind her, causing her to jump a little on the saddle. It was her uncle, the Duke of Suffolk, who marched beside her.

- Aren't we supposed to be happy in this special occasion, Your Grace? – Mary countered politely, nodding in the direction of the carriage.

- Indeed, my Lady. I am sorry… I didn't mean to… I just thought… - Charles Brandon reddened a bit, cursing himself for being so indiscreet. He and his big mouth.

- You know me well, uncle Charles – said Mary in a lower, informal tone. Am I the only one who finds this event completely unnecessary? – for once she did not suppress the urge of speaking bluntly.

Charles lowered his head for a minute, then he whispered:

- Certainly not, milady, in spite of the wonders this display of… magnificence is doing wonders to your father's mood.

- I do not doubt that. I just hope with all sincerity that God blesses them with a male child – and with that Mary took a few steps forward, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. He knew perfectly what Mary meant with her last words, for they had crossed his mind as well. No matter how splendorous Henry's pleas to the Almighty might be – and, as the Head of the Church and self-proclaimed chosen by God to understand His will and word, Henry's efforts to be in the Lord's good graces were immense – they were no guarantee of a male son. He and his niece had seen an equal – well, maybe not so extravagant – display of luxury and ostentation when Anne Boleyn was carrying the supposed heir of the throne… who turned out to be a girl, Lady Elizabeth, much to Henry's disappointment.

Now it was Anne's cousin who occupied her place, with much credit to be given to their uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, who had become an expert in the art of using his female relatives for favor, and as much as Suffolk despised Katherine Howard, he feverously prayed that, for her own sake, she was carrying a baby boy inside her womb. Otherwise the Howard family would have to hide their heads in shame.

Suffolk was so absorbed in his thoughts that he jumped a little when someone put his hand on his elbow. It was Eustace Chapuys, the Imperial Ambassador. After the usual pleasantries, the Savoy-born politician whispered discreetly in Charles's ear:

- Something is wrong in this picture.

Charles frowned.

- I beg your pardon?

- Look at her – Chapuys stepped aside to give Charles a better view of the right side of the carriage. While the King chatted casually with his Lords, Katherine Howard pretended to fan herself due to the unusual heat of that late March afternoon, while in fact she used the fan to cover her mouth from indiscreet eyes who might otherwise have spotted her whispering something to Thomas Culpepper, one of the King's men, whose eyes left no doubt about the kind of feeling he nurtured towards her.

_Oh my, not again_, thought Charles, feeling a knot in his stomach. Didn't the Howards learn anything from Anne Boleyn's death? When a woman was chosen to be Henry's consort, she had to be extremely cautious of her relationships, especially with other men. Katherine was literally risking her neck right in front of the whole kingdom. Acting by instinct, Suffolk got closer to the carriage, positioning his horse in order to get a better view of the Queen.

There she was, looking beautiful in a red and gold dress, using her most exquisite jewels. Nevertheless, and although her smile never faltered her, Brandon noticed something very unusual. As a father himself, he remembered very well his wife's pregnancy, as well as he remembered seeing the radiant look on Lady Anne's face during Christmastide. When a woman was pregnant, there was always an air of serenity and joy around her, something everyone could see, something visible from inside out. However, Katherine did not seem affected by the advanced stage of her condition. Any other woman would be nervous, or at least uncomfortable due to the heat and thirst. Nevertheless, Katherine seemed to be her usual self, moving in her seat all the time and chatting merrily with her ladies, her pose way more hassle-free than any woman – let alone a Queen – should be in her situation. Then something very strange happened. When Katherine's eyes met the Duke of Suffolk, a brief flinch of shock and panic went through them, disappearing as sooner as it had appeared. Katherine sat very upright in her seat, her pose now more reserved, as if she was a child who had been scolded for her misbehavior. Brandon took a few steps backwards, until he found himself riding beside Chapuys again.

- Something is definitely wrong, Excellency, and sooner or later we shall know what it is.

_Three weeks later_

- Please, Your Grace, I beg you…. – Jane Boleyn didn't complete the sentence. Norfolk took a sharp breath.

- Jane, we can't delay this forever! Everything is ready. The fake blood is ready, the midwives are ready, the servants are ready… what else do we need?

- A few more hours – pleaded Jane. – Surely you don't want the child to be born on a Friday 13th!

Norfolk pressed his lips together. Deep inside, he knew Jane was right. Being born in a Friday 13th, even if it was a fake birth, was an omen he didn't want to be responsible for.

- Very well, we shall wait until the break of dawn. Not a minute more nor a minute less. Do you understand?

- Sure – muttered Jane, while he left the room.

_Sunday, April 14__th__ 1542_

The activity around the Queen's chambers was almost breathtaking. Ladies were in and out, carrying bowls of hot water and towels. Hidden from the Court's eyes, Stephen Cromwell had been brought to the castle early that morning. In that precise moment, he was being cradled by Mistress Catherine Carey, cousin of the Queen, who meanwhile tried to scream as much as she could, while her ladies smeared pig's blood all over the sheets and – much to Katherine's disgust – all over her night gown. However, she couldn't complain: she had to scream, harder and harder, to simulate that a life was being taken from her womb when, in reality, the cotton-pebble womb was long gone in the trustful hands of a Howard lady to be burnt and thrown to the Thames.

- I can't… - Katherine gasped for air, after a period of time who seemed an eternity – stand this… any longer…

Jane Boleyn sighed. They had been there all day, with Katherine screaming constantly, only stopping to regain her breath and sip on a glass of water. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks bright red due to the effort of screaming for hours, her whole body was sweaty and tense. Jane didn't have the heart to delay this any further. Furthermore, Catherine Carey was having more and more trouble to keep the damn baby quiet. So she took a decision.

- Very well, ladies, you can start changing the sheets clean. Katherine, come with me. Let me change you into a new night gown. In the meantime, you can eat something while they change your bed.

- Thank you – Kitty promptly jumped out of the bed, while one of her ladies offered a bowl of grapes which she practically devoured while they changed her blood-stained sheets into clean ones. Ten minutes later, Jane Boleyn passed her the bundle carrying Cromwell's son… no, her son, he chided herself. He would be her son from that moment on. Catherine stretched her legs under the sheets, while cuddling the baby, who nevertheless kept whimpering softly.

- Shh… shh… my little one. Everything's fine. We did it… we both did it – Katherine whispered in his tiny ear.

- Go and call the King – commanded Lady Rochford. Kitty took a deep breath and smiled nervously. Jane returned her smile. Although they were both visibly tired, she was proud of Katherine, of how she handled their lies until the very end.

Fifteen minutes later the sound of a cane was heard and Katherine held her breath when Henry barged into the room.

- What is it? – he said, stopping at the edge of the bed. – What is it, my rose?

- It's a boy, Your Majesty – Katherine's voice swelled with pride. – A fine, healthy baby boy. – I thought he should be called Henry… if that pleases your Majesty of course.

- THANK GOD! – King Henry cried in delight. – I have a son! Let all England know I have a son! And may the bells of all country announce the birth of Prince Henry Tudor, Duke of York!

Katherine giggled, more relieved than happy. For her it was the end of all the scheming, all the plotting and lies. From now on, her deed was done and she could get back to her normal life. Or so she thought.


	16. Guilt

**Hello people, here I am with a new chapter. Today we have Mary/Greg first kiss! But don't skip parts of the chapters, otherwise I'll make you suffer. SERIOUSLY :D**

**Thanks Dani for the brainstorm!**

**Chapter 16**

Mary had retired to her private chapel in order to not hear the screams that came from Katherine Howard's bedchamber. At first she thought of going there in order to be by her side during the deliverance. Certainly that would earn her his father's sympathy, but then she reconsidered. It would be a lie, and they both knew it: Mary was sure she was the last person Katherine would want to see during such an important time for the country. The princess felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach: what if it was a girl? Mary allowed herself to be a little selfish, wishing that Katherine gave birth to a little daughter instead of the long awaited Duke of York. It would be a major failure for the Howards, once again, eight years after the birth of Elizabeth, her little and beloved sister. Nevertheless, Mary hoped – for her father's sake – that the baby was a boy. Henry VIII wasn't known for his ability of handling deception very well, as much as the idea of being casted aside from the line of succession by a little boy with Howard blood running in his veins made her stomach churn in discomfort. Mary chastised herself for such thoughts and prayed for a healthy child, no matter if it was a boy or a girl.

She didn't know for how long she had been knelt in front of the altar when the sound of bells echoed in the small chapel, making the stoned walls of the chapel reverberate with the sound. The tone was cheerful, happy, booming. Mary didn't need any more information to tell the gender of the child: only a boy could provoke such bliss in the English realm. While on one hand she was happy for having another brother, on the other hand she felt her eyes burn with the threat of tears. It was over for her. All her hopes of being Queen and restore the country to peace and rightfulness were ruined.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a discreet cough of Lady Susan Clarencieux, her favourite maid-in-waiting. Then a sound of footsteps and a cane echoed in the small chapel, allowing Mary to identify her visitor long before he finally stopped behind her, crossing himself. She turned around and smiled warmly. He seemed to have a gift to know when she most needed comfort and advice.

- Eustace – Mary was just about to give him her hand to kiss, but then at the last minute she gave up and let her arm drop disappointedly. She was no longer hoping her father would restore her to her rightful place, and even if he did so there would be always a Duke of York in front of her. Nevertheless, Chapuys leaned forward and caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it determinedly. Her smile grew wider in gratitude and affection.

- I suppose you have already heard the news – he nodded towards the window, from which anyone could see the bells tolling.

- Indeed – Mary said, giving a few steps forward and sitting on the stone bench below the window frame, and making room for him to sit beside her. – Her Majesties must be overjoyed – she said in the lighter tone she could fake. – I can't wait to meet my newborn brother – she added, trying to sound convincing, but realising her failure immediately, as soon as she saw a sympathetic smirk playing in Eustace's lips.

- My gentle lady, lying is not part of your sweet and excellent nature. Therefore, you are terrible at it – A little smile escaped from Mary's lips before she could control it, but it was quickly replaced by her usual melancholy.

- It doesn't seem fair that such a futile woman as Katherine Howard is blessed with a son when my sweet Lady Anne is crying and praying every single night for a chance to hold her baby in her arms again – she whispered. – She didn't deserve it. They didn't deserve it, no matter what Cromwell has done in the past. No one deserves to have his child stolen from his parents' arms. And it's all my fault – she let out a quiet sob. Chapuys shook his head.

- Milady, it is nobody's fault. It could have happened even if you didn't ask the Lady Anne to join you. Cromwell has many enemies, even more now, ever since he escaped the scaffold and managed to remain in the king's good graces. There are people out there who are willing to do anything in order to bring him down. It is not your fault, my lady. Don't say that.

- Then why do I feel guilty? – Mary felt her cheeks burning due to the tears that were now streaming down her face. – Why do I keep dreaming about him every night? It's always the same dream: he is there, sleeping peacefully in his cot, but whenever I try to pick him up my hands become heavy as plumb and I can't move them!

- Because you have a kind heart and you care about their misfortune – Chapuys reached for her hand, caressing its back with his fingertip. Surprisingly, Mary cut the distance between them, resting her head on his shoulder. The ambassador used his free arm to embrace her, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, until Mary broke it with a whisper:

- What will become of me, now that my brother is born?

Chapuys sighed. There were moments when he hated his job, and that was definitely one of them. For a moment he thought of softening the truth, but it would be of no use.

- May I speak bluntly, milady?

- Always – she looked up, her greenish eyes meeting the blueness of his. She knew what he was going to say, but nevertheless she wanted to hear it from his mouth.

- As things are now, I don't believe you have any chances of being restored – he stated as neutrally as he could. She closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them her expression betrayed nothing apart from resignation.

- I suppose I owe you an apology, then – she faced him, trying to smile.

- I'm afraid I don't understand – he frowned in surprise.

- For making you work so hard and fight so relentlessly for nothing. In the end, all your efforts were useless. I am not the male son my father desires. I am but a maid, who can easily be overthrown by her own little brothers.

- Milady… - Eustace protested. – You have nothing to apologize. I would do everything again and perhaps even more if I were given the chance. I don't want your apologies, I only want to be remembered as a loyal subject and maybe – if you find me deserving of such honour – as a friend.

- Are you thinking of leaving England? – she felt a wave of panic running down her spine. He bit his inner cheek before answering:

- I suppose my services are no more needed, as much as it pains me to state such a thing.

- No! – Mary squeezed his hands into hers. – Please Eustace, don't! I need you here. Please.

- But your claims to the restoration… - she cut him off, waving impatiently.

- This is not about my position, it's about me. Mary, simply Mary. I need you here. I need your help in a very important matter.

- Finding Cromwell's son? – he countered.

- Yes! You know a great many people who would be very helpful. Please… we need everyone we can gather. Furthermore… - and she blushed, not finishing the sentence.

- Furthermore… - he gently prompted her.

- I need you here… I know it's selfish but there is no one else I can rely on as much as I rely on you. Now that my father's attentions are completely absorbed by everyone else but me, who else will be there to remind me that there is still hope and kindness in this world? I am not asking this as your lady, but instead as your friend – she smiled. – Please, Eustace.

He looked deep into her eyes, deeply moved by her words. Although he would never admit it, Mary had become the daughter God had never allowed him to have.

- I will stay if that's my lady's wish – he finally answered.

- Mary. You are not my crusader anymore – she reminded him lightly.

- I'll be your crusader as long as I live – he looked at her straight in the eye. – I will stay here, Milady… Mary – he corrected himself. – Alas, it wasn't as if I have ever had a choice to refuse – he said smiling tenderly. Mary let out a stifled laugh. He always had the gift of cheering her up even in the middle of chaos.

- Of course you had not, Eustace – she said, forgetting for once the protocol and simply throwing her arms around his neck gratefully, holding him tighter as she felt his arms closing around her. – Of course you had not.

She heard him laugh quietly and slightly kiss her hair. When they parted, nevertheless, his expression was back to his normal seriousness.

- You should go and meet the Queen and your brother. It will cause a good impression.

- What's the point of it? She won, anyway – Mary bit her lower lip.

- That's precisely why you should meet her by your own initiative. Never allow an enemy to see you defeated, Mary – he advised, caressing her chin. She nodded in agreement, before standing up and straightening her dress.

- I'll do that right away. The sooner the better, is it not?

- Indeed – he smiled. – I will stay here and pray, with your permission.

- Be my guest – she crossed herself for a moment before closing the door behind her. Her feet immediately guided her through the maze of hallways until she stopped at the Queen's bedchamber door. The ladies did not curtsey, apart from the old Lady Shelton and Catherine Carey.

- I was wondering if I could see Her Majesty – Mary said warmly. – If she is well enough to receive me, that is.

- His Majesty the King is with her right now – the Duchess of Norfolk said in an indifferent tone. – I don't think they would like to be disturbed. – Mary turned to her, her brow arched.

- I will ask… if Your Grace can join them – Catherine Carey said carefully, avoiding the gaze of the other ladies.

- Thank you, mistress…

- Carey, my lady. Catherine Carey.

- Thank you, mistress Carey, you are far too kind – Mary said sympathetically, while the young woman curtseyed and entered the room. A few minutes later, she made a gesture for Mary to come forward.

- Your Majesties, the Lady Mary.

Mary curtseyed deeply to her father and her stepmother.

- Have you come to meet your new brother, Mary? – her father smiled. – You may come closer.

Mary smiled as a blond, blue eyed baby peeked from the bundle in his father's eyes.

- Meet Henry Tudor, Duke of York – her father said cheerfully. – Would you like to hold him?

- It would be an honour, Your Majesty – Mary caught Kitty's eyes, and her stepmother beamed in an annoying smile of superiority. Henry passed her the bundle, and as soon as her nostrils were filled with that soft, sweet scent of a newborn baby, Mary felt again this iron fist clutching her heart. She remembered Stephen, her sweet godson, with his blonde hair, his sapphire blue eyes… just like Henry. She had to suppress her tears, hiding them behind a smile. It wasn't Henry's fault that he was so alike with the poor Cromwell baby.

- He is beautiful – she said, cooing him tenderly. – Truly beautiful – and with a small kiss on the forehead she passed him back to Henry, whose eyes were totally on his newborn son and his wife. Mary felt unnecessary there. It was so unfair. God had a wicked sense of humour. It was so utterly unfair, she thought after curtsying and leaving the room, rushing to the gardens. It was so BLOODY unfair, she thought just before collapsing under a tree, hugging her knees and letting her tears flow once again, until a gentle hand cupped her chin and made her look up.

- Gregory – she tried to smile, but failed miserably.

- What's bothering you, milady? – he asked concernedly, sitting in front of her, his legs folded and crossed on the grass.

- Guilt – she simply said. – Nothing but guilt, and unfairness. The Queen is rejoicing while your stepmother is heartbroken. I can't stand it.

- You have no reason to feel guilty, milady. How many times have we told you that?

- Not enough times to make me believe it – she countered.

He sighed, reaching her hand and kissing it respectfully. He knew she was suffering as much as them, and he couldn't help but pity her. Following his instinct and for once forgetting his place, he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her shaking while her tears wetted his shoulder.

- I just wish things could go back to what they were. Everything back in its place.

- I know – Gregory made her face him, their foreheads touching. – Believe me, I know.

Mary just stood there, her eyes lost on his, her suffering mirroring his. Her eyes moved irresistibly to his lips. His thin, pressed lips who seemed so soft yet so masculine. _Stop it, _her mind advised her. _Stop it before you regret it. You are distressed, you are not thinking clearly. _

Nevertheless, her lips seemed to have a will of their own, as well as Gregory's, which met her halfway. Their kiss was tender, brief, but nevertheless incredibly sweet. When they parted, none of them talked. Instead, Mary hugged him again, feeling soothed by his strong embrace. She folded her fingers just behind his neck, grazing a piece of drier skin in the process. Intrigued, she passed her fingertips all over it. It was a circle of brown skin, barely visible beneath his clothes.

- It's a birthmark – he whispered in her ear. – My father has one too.

She smirked, facing him again. The sun was almost setting; she needed to go back to the castle.

- Thank you, Gregory.

- For what, milady? – He blinked.

- For everything – Mary said, kissing his cheek just before rising up and starting her way back to her apartments.


	17. Love, Lust and Suspicions

**Chapter 17**

_Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay, but this is my last year in university (BA) so you can guess how busy I am -.-' Anyway, I hope you like it!_

**Part I - Love**

I face the ceiling of my bedroom for the millionth time tonight. As usual, I cannot sleep properly. Well, I would have been more honest if I said that I am afraid to sleep properly, because every time I close my eyes the pictures behind my eyelashes are always the same: me holding my son for the first time, me cuddling him to sleep, me singing him lullabies and breastfeeding him, until the images start to spin vertiginously in my mind and I have to open my eyes before I choke in my own misery.

Tonight is no exception, but unlike the previous nights I simply cannot lie still in my bed. I need some fresh air, so I pull the covers aside very carefully in order not to wake my husband and slowly rise to my feet, walking barefoot towards the window and sitting below its frame, opening it slightly and inhaling the sweet spring breeze of June. I rest my head against the glass and let out a deep sigh of sadness, which is only sweetened by the sight of my beloved baby daughter, peacefully asleep in her cot. I realize how different she is from her missing brother: while he seemed to inherit my light blue eyes and my blond hair, Eleanor would surely become the spitting image of her father, despite her short three months of life, as I could tell by her black hair and blue eyes, exactly the same color as her father's. Speaking of her father, my eyes diverted from the tiny sleeping figure to my own bed, where Thomas laid on his stomach, with half of his face turned to me and one hand resting in the pillow. He had been my strength lately, ever since I lost our son. He never blamed me, although I suspect that deep inside he does, just as everybody else. How can they not blame me, if this was all my fault? I should have stayed inside, I should have not encouraged my poor Mary to join me in my prayers. I should have been there, I should have taken care of my son instead of leaving him in someone else's care. I should have been a better mother, to put it nicely. Now God is punishing me by putting me through the greatest loss of all, the greatest pain a woman can endure, which is the loss of a child. Even if my child is still alive (and God knows how I cling to that hope, against all odds), he is forever lost for me. No more will I see him, or hold him. He is no longer mine: as we speak, he may have been already renamed and given a new family. Although it pains me to admit it, I am no longer his mother. I could never be such, when his tears will be soothed by someone else, his first words will be heard by another woman, his studies will be provided by another family. And that's what pains me the most: knowing that some other woman might have already claimed what should be undoubtedly mine, the miracle of my own womb, the ultimate proof of love between a wife and a husband.

As if he had read my mind, I feel a pair of strong arms embracing me, followed by the familiar scent of sandalwood which I love above all fragrances.

- Are you still having trouble sleeping, my love? – Thomas whispers behind my ear, making me shiver in both sadness and discomfort.

- I cannot stop thinking about our son… about my fault in all this – and before he could stop me, I am not able to keep my thoughts to myself. I tell him how bad I feel, how useless I am as a mother and a wife, of how I would understand (although it would break me beyond repair) if he wanted to divorce me based on my lack of responsibility towards our children. My cheeks burn due to my unrestrained tears as I keep talking and talking, and Thomas's expression grows more and more astonished when suddenly he stops my ramblings by kissing my lips firmly yet lovingly.

- Don't you ever say that – he whispers against my lips.

- What? – I blink in confusion.

- Don't ever say that I have reasons to end our marriage. That you understand if I don't love you anymore. That all this is our fault. This is not your fault, Anne, and please do not think that my love for you has weakened in the past month. Actually, it has only strengthened.

- But… how? – I am truly confused. Has he just told me that he loves me, despite every things in which I have failed him?

- Let me show you – Thomas whispered, picking me up and laying me on the bed like I was made of the most fragile glass. Before I could say anything, my night gown was on the floor and his soft lips claimed mine like a thirsty man craved water in the middle of the desert as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I moaned as his lips descended from my jaw to my neck, my shoulders and my breasts, sucking and biting my skin gently. I giggled softly as his mouth continued to follow the trail of my skin, tickling my belly and my belly button, but my giggles faded and I had to bite my lower lip hardly to hold back a scream of pleasure as his tongue caressed the most intimate place of my being. I dug my fingertips in the sheets and closed my eyes as an overwhelming sensation started to grow inside me. I don't want this to end so soon.

- Thomas… Thomas… - I sigh. – Please…

- Please what, my love? – he lifts his gaze to meet mine, his blue eyes almost sparkling in the dark. – Tell me.

- I need you… Please, Thomas, I need you inside me – I gasped, surprised by my own lack of restraint.

A naughty, playful smile graced his lips before he sat on his ankles and gestured me to come forward. I did as I was told, sitting on his lap and lowering my hips to meet him. We both moaned in delight. It had been so long since our last time together. I wrapped my legs around his waist as Thomas started to thrust harder and deeper inside me, making me bite his shoulder to avoid the scream of pleasure of my overwhelming climax, as I feel Thomas seed being released inside me. After we had regained our breaths, he cups my face into his hands, our foreheads touching:

- Don't ever say that I don't love you Anne, for it is your love that keeps me alive and gives me strength during these times of sorrow – he said in that low, velvety voice of his. I simply nodded.

- I love you too – I said, while nestling in his arms and drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

**Part II – Daydreaming**

Meanwhile, Anne and Thomas were not the only ones in their household who were having trouble sleeping. Gregory Cromwell sighed as time went by so slowly. In a few hours the sun would rise and that sleepless night would thankfully end. Not that Gregory had not had many of those nights in the past: when he was younger, that was a constant in his life, especially after his mother and sisters' passing, when every time he closed his eyes their dying images seemed to find the utmost pleasure in haunt him and make him miserable. Nowadays, those nightmares were rare, in great part due to the German princess which had entered his life. Even if he lived for a thousand years, Gregory knew it wouldn't be enough to thank her for what she had done for him and above all for his father. If it wasn't for her pleas, his father would be long dead; his headless remains thrown into the Thames, leaving him completely alone in this world. But now, thanks to Anne, all of them had a change to start over again: his father had finally found love after so many years of grief, Anne had an opportunity to have a happy marriage (despite all the pain she was enduring because of his little brother Stephen, Gregory strongly believed the love between Thomas Cromwell and the duchess of Cleves had not weakened a single bit)… and what exactly did he, Gregory Wyckes Cromwell, had in return? Well, apart from a stable and comfortable family life, it seemed like Anne's marriage had left him with a riddle in his hands: Mary Tudor.

When Anne became part of their household, only a blind person could not tell her relief, a feeling that Gregory could totally understand: being only a year older than his stepmother, he could not imagine how he feel if he was in her early position: a fair-looking, sweet-natured lady in her mid twenties married to a disgustingly fat and dangerously moody King already close to his fifties. Although Gregory could certainly understand the political reasons behind such union, he didn't envy Anne's position: in a way, it was a blessing for her to be casted aside by the King. She did not speak much of her early life in Cleves: the only thing Gregory knew was that she was very close to her (now deceased) father, whose health issues made inapt to rule his dukedom. From that moment on, Anne's life had been completely dominated by the strict rules of her mother and her brother. When her brother raised the possibility of marriage between the King of England and the forsaken German princess, her family welcomed it as manna from heaven, even Anne herself did so. _Anything seemed better then Cleves, _Anne once said. How naïve she had been! She knew Henry was old enough to be her father, but she did not expect him to be so _repulsive_ : not only physically but also concerning his character. Henry VIII had built a fortress all around England, whose walls were made only of fear and terror. Long gone were the days where King Henry and Queen Katherine were the epitome of happiness and fairness in their kingdom. Thirty years had passed since their marriage, and in the meanwhile the royal throne, once occupied by Katherine, had supported the weight of four other women: Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves and now Katherine Howard. Behind them there was a trail of tears, plots, betrayal and sometimes death. With Anne Boleyn the King had probably made one of the biggest mistakes of his life, Gregory thought. He had forsaken a gentle and loved Queen, Katherine of Aragon, based on the lack of a son. Anne seemed to be the solution to his lack of male issue, but in a twist of fate the Boleyns tasted their own medicine: Anne gave birth to a girl, Elizabeth, and then miscarried two sons, one of them allegedly conceived with her brother, Lord Rochford. Such allegations cost Anne her crown and her head. Gregory knew his father was the key in the plot to bring the Boleyn queen down, but in the end it was his head or hers. As much as Gregory felt sorry for Lady Elizabeth, he was glad it was Anne's head the one to be severed from her body.

After that came Jane Seymour. Henry VIII had claimed she was his true love, the woman he had been looking for (not very patiently, Greg added inwardly) all his life. They had married only eleven days after Anne Boleyn's execution. Queen Jane was lovingly accepted by the people, mainly because she was the opposite of her predecessor in all aspects, from her blonde hair and pale complexion to her religious views: Jane was a traditional Catholic while Anne had been one of the pioneers of the Reform. The former's sweet and pious nature had even led the King to reconcile with his two daughters, Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth. Furthermore, the Lord seemed to approve her union to Henry. Less than a year after their wedding, Jane's pregnancy was announced, and the whole kingdom roared in joy when Prince Edward was born, in a chilly October morning of 1537. The king had finally accomplished his dream of fathering a legitimate male son. Unfortunately, the price to pay for his achievement was painful: less than two weeks after the birth of her son, Jane Seymour died from childbirth fever. This was a hard blow to the King, who remained widowed for three years until he finally gave in to his father's advice and married Anna of Cleves, a German duchess whose brother was held in high position in the Protestant countries for being the brother-in-law of the Duke of Saxony, head of the Schmalkaldic League.

However, despite her valuable family ties, the King did not like Anne of Cleves. According to him, she was ugly as a mare, thus the marriage was never consummated. Although he had never voiced it aloud, Greg suspected the reason behind the King's displeasure was way different. Two years ago, when Anne was still on her way from Calais to London, she stopped at Rochester, where tournaments were being held in her honor. Rumors had it that the King entered her chambers dressed as a pageant and tried to kiss her. Surprised and disgusted by the assault, and unaware the King was disguised, Lady Anne did what every young lady would do if a stinky old man tried to kiss her: pushed him away and spat out of disgust. This insulted the King greatly. He was not used to being rejected, so instead he rejected her for exposing the ugly truth: Henry VIII's days as the most handsome prince of the Christendom were long gone. Wounded on his ego, Henry soon started to work on a divorce, using an excuse of a pre-existing marriage contract between Anne and Francis of Lorraine. Many had expected Anne to fight like Catherine of Aragon had done, but Anne chose the prudent way out. She was no Catherine of Aragon, whose parents were the most important Kings of the Catholic world. Her background was far more modest, so she was happy to get everything the King, in his generosity, saw fit to bestow upon her. Briefly after their divorce, the King moved on to his fifth and current wife, the silly young Katherine Howard, whose lack of intelligence and decorum made her the perfect pawn in her family's game, attracting the attention of an old and desperate King. And now that Kitty had succeeded in giving him a son, Prince Harry Tudor, all seemed to go back to normal in the English realm. People would soon focus their praises on her, Katherine Howard, the youngest and fertile girl who miraculously had gotten pregnant by the King. Few were the ones who remembered Henry VIII in his youth, and the newborn prince would never knew he was his mother's life insurance. Everyone would forget the past and focus on the future.

Everyone but her.

Mary Tudor had seen it all: her mother's demise, Anne Boleyn's rise and fall, the reconciliation brought by Jane Seymour, the failure of Anne of Cleves, the success of Katherine Howard. She was someone whose dreams of happiness, marriage, family and joy were destroyed by her father's actions. And now things have gotten worse: the throne she had always claimed to be fit to occupy belonged to another besides Edward: her new brother, the Duke of York, shattering her dreams of becoming Queen by right, as her grandmother had successfully been. She had every reason to be spiteful and filled with hate, but instead of being so, she was ever so graceful and polite… and beautiful, a voice inside his head added dreamily. Gregory had never imagined he would actually meet her, let alone… kiss her. The taste of her lips was still lingering on his, her perfume still surrounding him. _She is way above you, _said a voice inside his head. _She was just shaken by the birth of her brother and the missing of your own brother. It was nothing, and she's probably regretting it now. _Or not, thought Gregory, thinking about her reaction after they parted. Was it just a figment of his imagination or she had enjoyed it too? _That girl is a riddle_, Gregory thought, turning in the bed. A riddle he only hoped he could decipher someday.

**III – Lust**

Catherine Howard turned in the large crimson bed, smirking as a muscled arm hugged her now flat belly. _Thank God it is all over_, she sighed inwardly. All those months of pretending were tiresome and boring: a pregnant Queen could not dance, could not enjoy herself. Now that she was free from her burden, that Prince Henry was being taken care of by her ladies, she could finally allowed herself to indulge in her pleasures... being the first one of the list laying with Thomas Culpepper, her true love. She purred in his ear as he supported his chin on her shoulder, kissing her bare skin.

I have missed you so much – he whispered in her golden locks.

Me too, Thomas. Me too – she smiled.

It seems we are forever doomed to meet in secret – he sighed. - How I wished to claim openly my love to you, Katherine!

Thomas, we have discussed this before – Katherine said. - Do not concern yourself with such matter: I am here now, am I not? That's all that matters, my love. And before you say something... - she put a finger on his lips – His Majesty will never suspect. Lady Rochford will cover us.

Do you trust her? - Culpepper arched an eyebrow.

Well, she kept the secret of my pregnancy in secret, did she not? Now come here – Kitty said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Soon she rolled on the bed, positioning herself above him and riding him like an amazon. She could not scream wholeheartedly, but nevertheless she whimpered in pleasure as they both released their pleasure. She would visit him more often, now that the King was no longer obsessed with a son. Her life as Queen of England was about to become boring as a monastic life... if it was not for Thomas. _Sometimes, it is so good to be Queen, _Katherine thought as she dozed off to sleep.

**IV – Suspicion**

Charles Brandon sighed in relief when he finally reached the gates of Hampton Court. Another night spent searching for Cromwell's son. Not that he cared about Cromwell: if it was for the Duke of Suffolk, Cromwell would be rotting under the stones of St Peter Ad Vincula. But he was a father too, and the fear of losing his little boy made him churn in discomfort.

Speaking of children, Charles smirked as he looked up to the windows of the castle, Henry seemed to be inspired by the birth of his child. A female body seemed to move up and down, up and down, her outlines drawn by the candlelight. Surely Henry was conceiving another son for the throne of England. Charles diverted his eyes with an amused smirk, not wanting to invade the royal couple's privacy. Then the strangest thing happened.

When Charles looked to the other side, there was someone in the King's bedroom. Someone staring outside the window. Looking more carefully, Charles noticed it was Henry himself, which made Charles almost freeze in confusion. If his eyes and mind were not deceiving him, and the King was standing there... who was the one bedding Katherine Howard?


	18. The ugly truth

**Chapter 18**

**Hello everyone! First of all let me wish you all a Happy New Year. And as I am feeling generous, here's a New Year's gift: a brand new update from yours truly :D You know the drill: read and review… please? :D**

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Brandon took a sip on his wine, looking pensively at the goblet. It was almost morning and he had not slept the whole night. Whenever he tried to do so, the shadowy outlines of Katherine Howard's naked body seemed to dance behind his closed eyelids, along with King Henry's perfectly composed and unaware face looking outside the window. Why should His Majesty be worried? His wife, his pretty, young, fertile fifth wife and Queen had given him a healthy son in her very first pregnancy, unlike her predecessors, who had left behind them either a frail toddler – as in the case of Prince Edward – or a trail of miscarriages behind them – as in the case of Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, whose only offspring were two living girls, Mary and Elizabeth Tudor. Furthermore, Katherine was only eighteen, which meant she could have many more chances of bearing living and healthy children to the King. _Poor Henry_, Charles thought. As much as he despised Kitty, her pregnancy and successful deliverance had done wonders for the King's health and mood. The King had reconciled himself with his manhood, Charles chuckled.

However, Brandon did not know how to handle what he had accidentally witnessed. On one hand, he was afraid of bursting Henry's bubble by telling him that his _rosa__ sine spina (_rose without a thorn) had just as many thorns as any common harlot. There was nothing that would assure him that the King would take the information well: actually, knowing Henry as well as he did, it was quite possible that, by the end of the day – and even if he was right in accusing the Queen of adultery – Charles was a head shorter. Nevertheless, the duke's conscience would not let him rest. If the whole affair was eventually discovered - which was quite possible since they were in Court, whose eyes and ears were everywhere Brandon feared he would be seen as an accomplice for having hidden the truth.

The question remained the same: who would he tell? For a moment Charles thought of knocking at Cromwell's doo, ut he dismissed the idea as soon as it occurred him. Cromwell would certainly use the information to rise even higher in the King's favour, and that was the last thing Charles wanted. But then… who? Who would be trustworthy enough to keep his secret, at least until more decisive evidences were gathered against Katherine?

The answer came to him in a flash, when the first rays of sunshine were already finding their way into the bedroom. Feeling relieved, Brandon started to dress and commanded his servants to get his horse ready after breakfast.

Meanwhile, Mary Tudor was on her way to the Duke of York's nursery. The overwhelming feeling of guilt had not disappeared, but it was wrong to punish a little baby for her faults. Therefore, and despite his wretched mother, Mary was determined to be a loving sister to her little brother.

The ladies in waiting seemed utterly surprised – even _too much _surprised – to see her there at such an early hour. Nevertheless, none of them dared to say no to her. Bastardized or not, Mary was still the King's daughter, so before they knew it Mary had picked Henry up from his cot and placed the bundle in her chest.

_He's truly adorable_, Mary thought while cuddling his blond hair with her fingertips as his chubby little hands played with the jewels of her necklace. She kissed the top of his head tenderly, and that was when it all happened. As she raised him a little to meet her lips, her thumb grazed a spot of dried skin in the baby's neck, making Mary smile shyly as she remembered the kiss she and Gregory had shared in the gardens. Sure, it had not been proper, but at that stage Mary had been too tired and too distressed to care. Nonetheless it had been undoubtedly a special moment. Mary's smile widened as she looked outside the window, turning her back to the silent queue of ladies-in-waiting who were looking at them, to the very same spot where she and Gregory Cromwell had kissed each other. She could still remember his puzzled look thereafter, as well as her accidental discovery…

_GOOD LORD, _Mary cried out inwardly, grazing her thumb on Henry's neck one more time. Now she knew why she had remembered Gregory immediately after that gesture: weeks ago she had come across a very similar mark on Gregory's neck. His words were now echoing in her ears:

_It's a birthmark. My father has one too._

If Thomas Cromwell had a birthmark – which he passed to his son – and if Henry Tudor of York had one too, there was only a possible conclusion, as remote and hideous as it might be: Henry Tudor was actually… Cromwell's son, Anne's lost baby… her godson Stephen! How in heavens did he end up there? Mary's anger was boiling. Good thing she had turned away from the ladies, otherwise they would have seen her hands shaking. It was a plot, a vile, despicable plot! Kitty and her wicked family had fooled everyone, including the King, by stealing the son of another man and passing him as a royal prince! Mary had to close her eyes for a second in order to keep herself collected. To her there was no doubt that in her arms lied Cromwell's son, not her father's. She had to gather all her self-control in order to prevent herself from shouting furiously at all the ladies in the room. Katherine Howard had just proved she was nothing but a greedy harlot, just like her cousin and her damned family. How could they dare to lie to the King? Mary kissed Stephen with all her love. On one hand she had to suppress the urge to barge into Kitty's room and kill her with her bare hands. On the other hand, Mary could not deny her relief: at least Stephen was being well-fed and princely treated. He was not hurt nor scared; actually, he seemed as healthy and beautiful as any baby. She placed him in his cot again, caressing his cheek. Outside the nursery, her most trusted lady-in-waiting and friend, Susan Clarencieux, was waiting for her. Mary took a deep breath and supported her back on the nearest wall.

"My lady, are you feeling well? Is His Grace alright?"

"He is fine" Mary whispered. They started to walk towards Mary's lodgings when suddenly the princess stopped on her tracks. Susan looked at her with a puzzled expression. Judging by the look on her mistress's face, Susan could tell she had just taken an important decision. She was about to ask if she could be of service when Mary held her hand.

"Susan, I need you to help me on a very delicate matter… one of greatest urgency" she said gravely, looking around to make sure they were not heard.

"Of course, milady. What can I do for you?"

"Could you arrange for us to go to Stepney immediately?" Susan raised her eyebrows in confusion. "It is a matter of life or death. No one must know of it, of course. I need to go to the Imperial Embassy" Susan's astonishment only increased with those last words, but she managed to answer.

"Sure, my Lady. I will talk to my husband, he can take us there.

"Thank you very much" Mary held her hands. "You have done me a great service" and before Susan could answer she locked herself in her room. There was only one person in the world she could tell her finding to… at least for the time being. And Mary knew that if there was someone who could advise her on such matter, it was the Imperial Ambassador.

After a discreet knock on the door, Charles Brandon waited outside the Imperial Embassy at Stepney. He heard footsteps coming from inside, and a second later he was greeted by a surprised clerk.

"Your Grace"

"Is your master here?" Charles cut him off. "I need to talk with him… immediately".

"Sure, His Excellency is in his study. If you could be so kind as to follow me…" invited the young man with a polite, almost professional tone. Charles followed him to elegantly carved door, which led to a small room. Inside there was a round table with some armchairs disposed around it, a marbled fireplace and books. Lots of books, methodically piled in its shelves. Sitting with his back turned to them was the ambassador, which turned his head to the door as soon as his clerk closed it with a muffled sound.

"Your Grace!" he seemed surprised to see Charles at such an early hour. "What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I am here to talk with you… privately, if you please" Brandon answered. With a nod, Eustace dismissed the young man. When he was gone, he invited Charles to sit and poured two glasses of ale.

"What brings you here, Your Grace? You seem very worried".

"Indeed I am, Excellency. I have seen something I should not have… something that puts me in a very delicate position. But first of all, I need to ask you something. This has nothing to do with your master or his affairs, so I would appreciate your discretion in this matter. What I am about to tell you can bring this country a great deal of trouble". Chapuys raised an eyebrow, which meant he was starting to get interested.

"That is indeed a very unusual request, but if Your Grace insists… I can see this is an urgent matter, and first of all let me thank you for the trust you put in this humble servant of yours".

"I do not know who else I can tell this to. Your Excellency has always seemed to me like a very tactful man, and that is precisely what I need here. To make a long story short, I have seen the Queen… engaged in her… bedtime activities".

Chapuys' eyes widened a little. "If you allow me to ask, how so, Your Grace?" Brandon had always had quite a reputation as a womanizer, but even he would not be so fool as to meddle with the King's kin… again. He had done that once with Mary Tudor, the Queen Dowager of France. It took him a while to regain Henry's favour. Would he be so stupid as to risk it again?

Charles understood the Ambassador's mind and for the first time in days he let out a small chuckle. "It is not what you think, Excellency. I still have good taste in women", he countered, making both men laugh. "I spent the night searching for Cromwell's son – which is still regrettably missing – and when I was coming back to Hampton I accidentally saw the Queen in her bedchamber. The window was closed, but unfortunately the curtains were open."

"Well, as much as I despise her carelessness and lack of decorum, what else can I say? I am glad that His Majesty and his wife are… getting along"

"I am afraid that I haven't made myself clear, Excellency… She was indeed bedding someone… but not the King".

"Oh dear" Chapuys muttered to himself. "How can you be so sure, Your Grace? Have you seen the man who was lying with her?"

"No, but I saw the King on the other side of the castle, in his own apartments. He was looking outside the window, possibly to the river. Unless the King has suddenly become omnipresent, I cannot understand this whole situation" Brandon added with a hint of irony.

"Her family seems to have forgotten their lesson from the past" commented Chapuys, and both men were momentarily lost in their thoughts. The ghost of Anne Boleyn seemed to float over them. The accusations were the same. Adultery. Treason. Plotting.

The silence was broken when they heard voices outside the room.

"My lady, His Excellency is in his study with someone else…"

"Señor Montoya, with all the due respect, I could not care less even if the King of France was inside that room. What I have to tell him is so important that it cannot wait" and with that Mary Tudor opened the door. "Os I need to talk to you" she said, addressing directly to Chapuys by his nickname, being oblivious to the fact that he was not alone.

Brandon furrowed his brow with an amused smirk. "Who?"

"Later, Your Grace" said Chapuys with such a deathly glare that made Brandon drop the subject… with a mental note to ask him afterwards.

"My most gracious lady… what happened? You seem so distressed".

"I have found some evidence of Katherine Howard's true nature" she blurted out.

"What do you mean? Please, be seated" and with that Eustace offered her his chair.

"She lied about her pregnancy, she fooled the whole Kingdom! My brother Henry is not even my brother!" she said, while collapsing on the chair.

"There is a strong possibility of that being true" Brandon sighed.

Mary looked at him for the first time. "What do you mean, Your Grace?" Brandon blushed a little, not knowing how to break the news to her.

"His Grace has witnessed some… adulterous behavior from the Queen. She was bedding someone else last night, while your father was in his apartments. If that is true, the child's true parentage is compromised. "

"But I know who is the child's father! Above all, I know who that baby really is!"

Both men looked at her with an appalled look.

"I fear I do not understand, my lady"

"When I was in Essex, I came to notice that both Cromwell and his son, Gregory, share a birthmark somewhere in their necks. Much to my surprise, when I came to visit him this morning at the royal nursery, I found the very same mark on the baby's neck!" Mary darted her eyes from Chapuys to Brandon, who were completely astonished. If what she was saying was true, it meant death for Katherine and all the Howards. _Well, would not that be such a pleasant sight, _thought Chapuys.

"Please say you believe me" Mary pleaded to them. "I swear on my mother's soul that this is true".

"I do believe you, my lady" said Chapuys. "However, such an accusation is both extremely grave and extremely hard to prove. You are blaming the Queen of a baby's kidnapping".

"Ultimately, you are blaming her whole family. She would not be so intelligent as to come up with such a scheme by herself. I can see Norfolk's hand behind this" added Brandon.

"And since you and your father are becoming more and more… estranged due to her, I fear he might accuse you of plotting against her, even if your allegations are true".

Mary's nervousness was quickly turning into disappointment.

"How shall we proceed, then?" she asked in a half voice.

"I honestly do not know" said Brandon. "Should we not tell his parents first?"

"Indeed we should" agreed Chapuys. "I pity the Lady Anne of Cleves: this will be such a hard blow for her".

"I do not know how to break the news to her. I don't know how would I react if I was in her place, whether I would be madly furious or dwelling with sadness".

"My Lady, I will have to ask you to gather all your strength and talk to her. That would be the first step to uncover Katherine Howard" said Brandon.

"And which would be the next step?"

"I do not know. Cromwell will undoubtedly be in charge of our… investigation. I would, if it was my son they had dared to kidnap" confessed Charles. "I am sure that cunning mind of his will draw a plan in absolutely no time".

"That will be interesting to watch. I do not know the Lady Anne well enough to guess her reactions, but I know Cromwell well enough to know this: the Howards are not aware of what is coming for them once he knows of their scheme".

"Heads will roll, Excellency" said Brandon in a somber voice. "Heads will definitely roll".


	19. Bad Dreams

**Hello everyone sorry for the long "draught". It has been more than a year since my last update. In the meantime I have been busy with my (now finished) BA, my recently started MA and some personal trouble. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and I apologize for not being able to update earlier. **

**So this is a small scene that I have been playing with in my mind. It's more like some sort of prelude or premonition of what will happen later in the story. I hope it makes sense to you. **

"Everything is perfect" Kitty sighed as he looked at her reflection in the mirror one more time. Her blonde hair was exquisitely decorated with pearls, her elegant figure was outstanding in that dark red dress, and the Tudor rose that shone on her brooch was made especially for that occasion by the realm's most gifted goldsmiths. Around the petals they had engraved her motto, _Non autre volonté que la sienne. _No other will but his. No other man but Henry.

This was a lie, of course, a well kept lie that Katherine and Jane shared. No one else needed to know about Culpepper. It was true that Katherine had wondered more than once how her life would be if she was not Henry's beloved, but only Mrs. Culpepper. She would be loved and valued, that was granted, but she would not be happier, or at least that was what she kept telling herself. Love and feelings were not enough to make a woman go ahead in this life. If Henry had not chosen her, she would not be able to possess all the things she had: maids to respond to her tiniest whims, men to flatter her everywhere, money to buy all the latest French fashion and liberty to do as she pleased in her own quarters. What would she have then? The love of a fool and her old life as a neglected young lady, forever apart from Court. No, it was better that way. She would marry Henry and love Culpepper. She would lie to Henry about her son and bed Culpepper with no fear of being caught. It was indeed risky, but one had to make decisions in this life and to establish priorities, and Katherine was not going back to her former life. Not anymore.

Jane peeked through the door. "Are we ready, Majesty?"

Kitty turned to her and smiled nervously. "What do you think? Am I forgetting something?"

Jane looked at her from head to toe and smiled approvingly. "Absolutely nothing. You look as splendorous as the occasion requires".

"I can't believe we are finally here, Jane" Katherine giggled. "Can you imagine? Me, Kitty Howard, as Queen of England? I mean, truly Queen and not a consort?"

_Not in my wildest dreams, _Jane snorted to herself. Nevertheless she kept her smile. "Indeed, life is full of surprises and unexpected events".

A nervous knock was heard on the door and Catherine Carey appeared beside Jane. "Your Majesty, the carriage is ready." Kitty made her best effort not to jump with excitement. "We shall be there in a moment".

Indeed they were. As Katherine rode to Westminster, the crowds gathered to watch her carriage pass by as some of her ladies threw alms to the poor as they passed. The occasion was joyful: the Queen consort was to be anointed. The mother of the Duke of York was to be crowned. The savior of the Tudor Dynasty was to be rewarded.

When she arrived to Westminster, she was informed that the King would be there in no time. Actually, she had to wait almost an hour for him, looking vaguely around and recognizing some familiar faces in the crowd.

Her uncle Norfolk was there with Jane, of course. Francis Bryan was there as well. Edward Seymour was there with his wife, looking at everyone with that arrogant stare that had never left him since the birth of his nephew. Chapuys was there, in a corner, looking ever so old and weary, at least to Kitty. Mary and Elizabeth were in the front benches. As much as Katherine would like to give Elizabeth more prominence, the young princess refused to leave her sister. The youngest of the Tudor daughters gave her stepmother a smile of encouragement when their eyes met. The same could not be said for Mary, who kept her eyes stubbornly in the Holy Cross. Where she was praying for her happiness or secretly cursing her marriage Kitty would never know.

In the front bench as well were the Lord Cromwell and the Lady Anne. Kitty would never expect to see Anne of Cleves attending her coronation ceremony. As usual, she tried to shake her mind off her supposed son when she eyed the German duchess. It was for a greater good. There was nothing she could have done.

Her thoughts were distraught by the sound of trumpets. "The King!" said the royal herald. Everyone bowed in an instant. Everyone but her.

Henry VIII's steps echoed down the aisle. He took a long time to meet the Queen, since he had refused to wear a cane in such an important event. Kitty bowed to him deeply, noticing that the smell of his leg had been carefully masked with herbs and spices.

"My rose" his tired voice whispered. "You look splendid this morning".

"Thank you Your Majesty" Katherine purred. She endured the whole length of the long ceremony, pronounced by Archbishop Cranmer. When Henry turned to the crowd and sat in St. Edward's chair, she followed his example by sitting in a richly ornamented chair beside him under a canopy. She was blessed and anointed with scented oils and then she heard Cranmer speak loud and clear above her:

"WITH THE POWER INVESTED IN ME BY GOD ALMIGHTY I CROWN THEE KATHERINE, QUEEN OF ENGLAND!"

Katherine gulped slightly as the Crown was put on her head. It was not as uncomfortable as she had thought. From the corner of her eye she saw Norfolk looking at her with a relieved expression and Jane smiling slightly. Then she looked to Cromwell and Anne to study their reactions and it was then that her pains started.

The crown was getting heavier and heavier, with its encrusted jewels weighing like a thousand stones on her head. Desperately trying to get rid of it, she turned to Henry, who was now with a devious expression in his face. "Your Majesty, what is happening?" she managed to utter. "What is this?"

Henry smirked devilishly and leaned forward to whisper. "Pebbles, my rose".

Katherine felt the ground falter below her feet. "Pe…Pebbles?"

"Yes, pebbles. Pebbles like the ones that prevented you from getting pregnant after your licentious behavior. Pebbles like the ones you put in your fake belly in order to deceive me, YOU TREACHEROUS WITCH!" Henry's voice was now a thunder over her head.

"I… I never did something like that!"

"HOW DARE YOU TO IMPLY THAT I AM NOT TELLING THE TRUTH!" Henry shouted. "YOU CHEAP WHORE! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU WANTED, I FELL FOR YOUR CHARMS AND THIS IS HOW YOU PAY ME? BY STEALING CROMWELL'S SON AND PASS IT AS MINE?"

Everyone in the church started whispering frantically, while Cromwell stepped forward to look at Kitty more closely.

"You stole my son" he said coolly. "You and your filthy relatives stole what I loved the most."

"THEY OBLIGED ME!" Katherine shouted in despair as the she was being dragged outside the church. There was a wooden post nearby, and in that moment she knew what fate awaited her. She tried to fight, to kick and scratch everything she could reach, but to no avail. Strong hands kept her still while she was tied to the post by her hands. "Please" she said to Anne of Cleves. "Please, Anne… do something…."

Anne laughed coldly. "You showed no pity while I wailed in despair over my son. Why should I show you kindness now?"

Someone approached the post with a triumphant smile. It was Cromwell again.

"Your cousin" he whispered softly "had always thought she would be the one facing this end. Now you must live to her legacy". With a wicked smile, he lit a torch and started the fire. Katherine watched in horror as the flames consumed everything, screaming hysterically when she felt them closer. "I don't want to die!" she shouted desperately at the crowd, praying for the salvation that would never come.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" shouted Kitty, sitting up straight in her bed. Jane Boleyn woke up from the small bed placed beside the Queen's bed in a hurry. Katherine was frightened, breathing erratically and sweating profusely.

"Shhh, Kitty" she said, climbing to Katherine's side. "It was just a bad dream. Nobody is going to die" she said, rocking her back and forth.

"But… I saw it, Jane. I saw myself burning… I saw Henry… he knew. He knew!" Katherine sobbed uncontrollably against her should.

"Hush" said Jane. "It was nothing, my love. Go back to sleep" she said firmly. "No one will harm you, we won't let them. We won't get caught" Jane said, trying her best to believe her own promises.


End file.
